The Gentlemen's Tea Party
by The Pyrat
Summary: With his very proper ex-lover coming over for a visit, Roger has a mere three days to turn the top three children in Wammy's House into perfect gentlemen. But Mello, Matt, and Near don't take kindly to the idea, and L certainly isn't helping.
1. Chapter 1

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After writing Everto Oculus, I had to write something that was cheerful and fun. So I did :) And indeed it was fun to write, so hopefully it will be just as fun for you to read.

_It all started with a song. Brass Monkey by The Beastie Boys to be exact, which is one of my favorite songs. If you haven't heard it, please go listen to it, because a certain scene in this opening chapter just won't be the same unless you've heard the song and can remember how it sounds. Everything else stemmed from that one scene that I envisioned to the song, and suddenly there was my inspiration for a whole story!_

_Some quick character facts:_

_L: age 18_

_Mello and Matt: age 10_

_Near: age 8_

_Alice: my name for the young woman with glasses who works in Wammy's House, shown on page 150 of volume 7._

_Now, for the first chapter!_

_Death Note and all related characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata._

* * *

The Wammy's House, a home where the gifted and genius orphaned children of the world were brought together under one roof, carefully groomed and tutored to the fullest of their abilities. They were taught by the best teachers for hire and lived in a world of expensive finery, where Egyptian cotton rugs, gold plated picture frames, and gardens filled with flowers imported from around the world were all part of daily life and often taken for granted. Oh yes, you have the appropriate picture now, don't you? Dozens of neat and tidy children, dressed in immaculate uniforms, marching about a just-as-immaculate house quietly carrying their books to classes. You are imagining children with perfect manners, who would never dare raise their voices, who would curl up quietly with a book in the library-

No.

Please, dear readers, erase such naïve images from your minds at once. For Wammy's House was not at all home to such children. In fact, the only person in that House that could be said to have manners was Mr. Roger Ruvie, the caretaker. In his presence no lady would go without a door unopened for her, no speck of fuzz or loose string would mar his brown suit, and if it had been left up to him certainly every child in Wammy's House would be the perfect little vision of youth. But alas, he was _only _the caretaker, and Mr. Wammy wished that all the children in his House be allowed to live naturally. Their quirks and talents were not to be suppressed, he insisted. But of course Wammy was already used to these "quirks". After raising a child like L, one would certainly be prepared for and tolerant of nearly any odd habit a child may have. Unfortunately Roger had not had the "privilege" of overseeing L to adulthood, and therefore was not yet numb to the oddities that assaulted him on a daily basis.

'But all is well,' he told himself, day after day. 'At least no one will know that _certain children _must be given only the most expensive brand of chocolate bars lest they sulk and throw a tantrum. No one will know that though they could have the best of fine cashmere sweaters and proper trousers, _certain children _will wear nothing but pajamas whether it is day or night. No one will know that _certain children_ must be praised and only 'gently discouraged from a reoccurrence' when they hack into my computer system as a prank. And oh, thank you dear Lord, no one will know that a _certain _young man must be brought sweets for every meal."

Ah, those wretched _certain children_. The best in Wammy's House, and the most atrocious among them the very beginning of it all, L himself. But Roger would endure. After all, no one would know…

But then – oh, horror and woe! – it happened.

A letter came. _The _letter. The letter written in perfect flowing calligraphic script and smelling lightly of women's perfume. The letter written on pale pink paper and folded just so into a gray envelope. The letter stamped with the seal of the Ladies' and Gentlemen's Board for the Proper Education of Youth. It was found buried among a pile of two week old junk mail that Roger had never thrown away, having become distracted right as he was about to do so by one of the children's shenanigans. The unfortunate placement of a book directly atop the mail pile had led to the terribly long delay in its discovery.

Roger opened and unfolded the letter with the utmost caution, as if he expected something decidedly unpleasant to leap out at him from it. Of course the letter physically did nothing, but it did manage to make the man's eyes grow wider and wider as he read it, until at last he looked up sharply from his reading with a horrified expression frozen upon his face. Any other reader of this simple letter probably wouldn't have seen anything so terrible about it. It said, in elegant flowing script, this:

_Dear Mr. Roger Ruvie,_

_How are you, my dear? I fear it has been so dreadfully long since I've written, which simply isn't polite of me at all. I must saying I'm doing fabulous myself, having just returned from a lovely cruise around the southern tip of Africa to Australia. It was a splendid trip!_

_Regardless, I must not forget my mission. As you know I am a member of Ladies' and Gentlemen's Board for the Proper Education of Youth, and I have been hearing quite a lot about that private academy you work in. Surely when it is said that place is filled with "geniuses" it is an exaggeration and not literal? Anyway, the Board and I must see this place for ourselves. After all, surely it is kept to the highest standards even if it is not filled with true geniuses, and you know how I enjoy old houses. Two of my fellow board members and myself will be out in two weeks time, on Sunday the 27__th__. I know you have dozens of children there and we can't examine them all, so we'll simply wish to see those top three of yours._

_I hope to find you in good health, dear Roger! We have much catching up to do, but that can be done over a nice cup of Earl Grey and a plate of scones._

_Until then,_

_Sincerely,_

_Elizabeth W. Martin_

Surely a harmless enough letter? But no, seemingly not, judging by the expression on Roger's face. Elizabeth W. Martin was not an unknown name to him. It was in fact dreadfully familiar. Ms. Elizabeth had been an old flame of his, and ahh he could remember her well! His old lover from the 40's, the beautiful blonde singer who lit up the stage with her presence. But that was certainly not all there had been to Elizabeth. She was a very proper woman, raised in a wealthy household with a father who was in government. Nothing, be it unsavory, immoral, impolite, ungrammatical, dirty, or wrinkled, would get past her. _Nothing_.

Roger flopped down into his chair. What on earth was to be done? She wanted to see the _top three_, the most wretched children in the House! It was bad enough that she was coming at all while L was still there. Of course no _real _harm could come of it, since she certainly couldn't shut down the House no matter how mightily she disapproved of the bad manners of its inhabitants, but she could cause a fuss and unnecessary trouble that Mr. Wammy shouldn't have to deal with while away on his business trip. And he would be gone for three weeks yet…

Roger paused, then picked up the letter again. The date…what?! But this was dated for nearly two weeks ago! Sunday the 27th….it was…Roger glanced over at his calendar.

In three days! Sunday the 27th was in three days! Only three days to prepare! Only three days to turn those children into gentlemen befitting a fine lady's presence!

Roger got to his feet and swiftly left his office, his face set in a determined expression. There were plenty of children roaming the halls, but where were _those _three? 'They could be anywhere!' Roger thought despairingly. 'The little hooligans, running amuck!'

He stopped abruptly as he passed the common room. Ah, there was one of them! The House's first, the pajama-clad little white-haired boy, Near. He was hunched over his blank puzzle as usual, his slim fingers carefully pressing each piece into place. Roger shook his head.

'Such atrocious posture!' he thought. 'Something _must _be done.'

He started forward, intending to correct the boy at once, but he was jarringly interrupted by the sound of thumping bass, coming from the speakers of a radio being toted down the stairs upon the shoulder of a blond boy dressed all in black, accompanied by a somewhat shorter redhead.

Thus entered into the scene number two and number three, Mello and Matt.

Matt made his way to the bottom of the stairs by sliding upon the banister railing, landing heavily upon his feet at the bottom. Upon his bare and very dirty feet. 'For heaven's sake!' thought Roger. 'The boy looks as if he's been rolling about in the dirt!'

And indeed Matt did, as he bobbed his head to the music and yelled out the lyrics, "Brass monkey! That funky monkey! Brass monkey junkie! That funky monkey!"

Mello on the other hand, carrying the vibrating radio upon his shoulder, made his way down the stairs in a less rambunctious manner. Though he was certainly not dirty in the least, he was still munching his usual chocolate bar and carrying himself with the air of one who thought he was terribly wonderful. His very looks screamed of a terrible lack of manners. It certainly didn't help that he wasn't averse to singing along with that dreadful song as well. "Cause I drink it anytime and anyplace! When it's time to get ill, I pour it on my face! Monkey tastes Def when you pour it on ice!" He drew out the word "ice", hissing it from between his teeth as he slid his body the side. Matt giggled at the sight of it, continuing with the lyrics as the two of them invaded the once quiet common room.

Roger was still partially hidden the doorway, and he watched with narrowed eyes as the events proceeded. Just how severe was their current state of uncivilized beastliness?

Near raised his head as the older boys approached him from behind. Without turning to look at them, he said, "It's very difficult to concentrate with that music playing so loud. You should turn it down Mello."

Mello's only response was to crank up the volume with a devilish smirk. The other children in the room began to mumble their complaints and got up from their seats to leave, as the troublemakers circled their bored looking victim like cannibalistic jungle natives around a bonfire.

At least, that was how Roger saw it.

"Hey Matt!" said Mello in a sing-song voice, and Matt called back to him from Near's opposite side. Mello went on, "I think we've found a _girl_!"

"Oh really?" said Matt, and perfectly in-time with the music he leaned down to put his arm around Near's shoulder. "Yo baby, what's up?"

"This is hardly amusing," said Near, as Matt squished him into a headlock and Mello set down the radio close by before bursting into the song's chorus. Matt pulled Near up to his feet before tossing him over his shoulder, which set the stage perfectly as Mello sang the line, "Step up to the bar, put the girl down!"

And down Near went, dropped to the floor, at which point Roger had seen quite enough. He marched into view and whisked up the radio, clicking it off as he said, "This shall cease at once!"

"Oh hey Roger," said Mello, not phased in the least by the interruption. Of course, this may have been due to the fact that he was somewhat distracted trying to choke down his laughter as Near gloomily rubbed his backside, upon which he'd been so rudely dropped.

"Wassup Ruuuvie?" said Matt, grinning mischievously. "Oh wow, I never noticed that before! Hey Mels, his last name is 'Ruvie', like 'groovy'."

Mello shook his head. "Matt, that's one of the lamest things you've ever said."

"Awww, but-"

"Enough!" Roger held up his hand for silence. Oh how was this ever to be done in only three days? "Boys, we are not barbarians in this house, and we certainly do not treat others in this uncivilized manner. I will be confiscating this." He set down the radio behind him with great finality, as Matt's mouth dropped open.

"But that's _mine_!" he said, as Roger helped Near to his feet and fussily readjusted his too-big shirt. "It was Mello's idea, why don't you confiscate something of his?"

"It was not my idea-"

"You are responsible for your own belongings Matt," said Roger, fighting off the urge to call him "Matthew". "This shall only be given back once I know you can possess it responsibly. I want apologies from both of you to Near."

"It was a _joke_," said Mello, as Matt mumbled an apology without further protest, regardless of how bitter he looked as he did so. "We were playing. But you know, I guess Near isn't used to that, since he's all anti-social and never plays with anyone."

Near gave Mello a very small glare over his shoulder. "I have observed that when playing with one another it is customary to at least _try _not to cause injury. You don't play very nice Mello."

Roger patted Near's head in an attempt at being comforting. "Now, now. Near is right Mello, we do not injure one another when playing. An apology, sir."

Mello rolled his eyes, beginning to sulk. "Fine. Sorry for hurting delicate girly little Near."

Roger sighed. "Must you always be so – ugh, never mind. There is something very important I must speak to you three about. Now…where did Matt go?"

"I'm right here!" said Matt, waving to Roger with a plastered-on innocent smile, having snuck off to sit with his back pressed to the basement door a good few yards away. "I'll just be sitting over here. What were going to say Roger?"

"Well, I was going to say that-" Roger cut off with a frown. "Now what is that scratching sound?"

"Rats!" said Matt quickly. "Just rats. I saw one this morning. A big one. They're all in the walls!"

"I could swear that sound is coming from the basement door," said Roger. Matt's smile tensed, and Roger put his hands sternly upon his hips. "Move away from the door at once."

"But it's really nothing!" said Matt quickly, refusing to move out of the way until the very last possible second as Roger marched forward and reached for the basement door's knob. "It isn't anything you should be worried about! Roger, really, you don't want to open-"

It was too late. As soon as Roger had the door opened a crack, a ball of muddy slobbering fur bounded out, nearly knocking him over and thoroughly dirtying his suit and the clean tile floor as it bounded its way across the room.

"What…w-what is…?" Roger stuttered, watching as the beast plowed over Near and licked his face as he lay passively between its paws. Mello was looking at the creature with an expression of shock and disgust, as if he was indeed looking at a giant filthy rat.

"It's a dog," said Matt slowly, trying to sound cheerful. "I found him out playing by the road and…well…"

"So you brought it _in the house_? This filthy thing?" Roger sidestepped the muddy paw prints as he crossed the room to grab the dog by the scruff of its neck and drag it off Near.

"Oh come on, Roger. I'll give him a bath!" said Matt despairingly.

"No. Absolutely not. I cannot have any more atrocities in this house, and certainly not with Elizabeth due here in three days. Oh, Lord help us, I'll need a _miracle _to accomplish this!" He attempted to push the dog back into the basement, but the happy thing tore away from him before he could manage it, skidding off out of the room. Roger threw up his hands in frustration, fully prepared to launch into a full-blown scolding in Matt's direction, but the boy had already taken off after the dog. Mello was close behind him, yelling, "Matt! You didn't tell me you found a dog! Why didn't you tell me?!"

Roger was quick to follow as well, as soon as he imagined the wreckage and chaos that beast could leave in its wake if allowed to run freely through the house. But the chase didn't last long. He swiftly found himself coming to a sudden halt, with both Matt and Mello already at a dead stand-still. The dog was nowhere in sight, but all he had to do was follow the boys' gazes to discover where it had gone.

They were staring toward the doors in front of them. _The _doors. _The _doors that were usually shut, but were at the moment unfortunately open. _The _doors beyond which lurked the most atrocious of all the Wammy's House atrocities.

_The _doors that led to L's room.

Mello crossed himself quickly, a little whimper rose out of Matt's throat, and even Roger found himself standing utterly still, waiting. There were several long dragging moments of silence, and then, slowly, a bare of bare feet came into view…

And L himself walked out of the room, carrying a plate of slobbered-upon and ruined chocolate cake.

"I was not aware that this house owned a dog," said L, poking at the cake with a fork and an irritated expression upon his face. "I would appreciate being informed of such things in the future, to avoid any reoccurring incidents of cake theft and demolition."

"Dogs can't have chocolate!" said Matt in a panicked voice, as the dog trotted from L's room licking its muzzle. L carefully stepped to the side as it passed, holding the plate further up out of reach, as if there actually remained something on it worth saving.

"Yes, yes, Matt calm down," Roger caught the dog by the scruff of its neck again, carefully leading it down the hall. "I'll have it taken down to the veterinarian's office and examined, everything will be fine. Alice will drive him there. I'll be back presently. No one get into anymore trouble while I'm gone!"

Roger and the dog disappeared off around the corner, leaving the two boys and one young man standing silently facing each other. Ahem, that is to say, _three _boys and one young man, as Near made his way out of the common room carrying his puzzle box. It was of course Mello who was the first to speak, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

"L, guess what? I got 100 percent on my math test yesterday," he said proudly. "That's as good as Near!"

"Very good," said L distractedly, crouching down to the floor as he continued to examine his cake, looking for any spot that the dog had not managed to touch. He sighed heavily. "Whoever owned that dog owes me cake."

"Oh, it was Matt's dog," said Mello quickly, and Matt's mouth dropped open as he began to stutter a protest. "But _I'll _get you cake." He put his hands on L's shoulders, then on his face, trying to get his attention away from the cake. "Oh, oh, and something else too! Yesterday, in English, I-"

"It wasn't really my dog," said Matt nervously, cutting Mello off in the middle of his boast. "But I'll get you new cake anyway. Sorry…"

"Your apology is accepted," said L, holding out his arm for Matt even as he finally focused his eyes on Mello's face. "I'm quite sure there's more in the kitchen. Near, perhaps you could get a slice for me?"

"I'd rather not," said Near bluntly, tangling his finger around a lock of his hair. "Mello and Matt have been being mean this morning; they should have to get it."

Mello's eyes widened as he whirled about. "We have not! You're just being a _baby _about it!"

"Wait a moment," L placed his hand on Mello's arm lightly. "Did they do you any harm, Near-chan?"

"We didn't!" said Matt and Mello in unison, trying to talk over Near's quiet voice as he dolefully explained the unfortunate story, complete with emphasis on the fact that he had been very carelessly dropped upon his backside. L tipped his head as he listened, then glanced between Mello and Matt, who gave him guilty smiles.

"He's clearly exaggerating!" said Mello, and Matt nodded quickly, refusing to give in even under the accusing looks of both L and Near. "We only teased him a little!"

"You know," L put his thumbnail between his teeth and gazed up at the ceiling. "I believe that once is once." Both Matt and Mello drew in their breath sharply, and Matt began to attempt to struggle out of the hold L's arm had around him. That formerly soft embrace had abruptly turned into an unbreakable hold, making the struggling quite useless. "What's that verse Mello?" said L, ignoring Matt's wiggling. "Something about an eye for an eye…"

"Exodus 21 verse 23!" said Mello, eager to prove himself, realizing too late that he had done nothing but add to L and Near's side of things.

"There, you see?" said L. "We can agree that it's perfectly just then."

"No we can't!" said Mello, though his disagreement didn't do him the slightest bit of good, as he still swiftly found himself upended beside Matt over L's thigh, as the detective resituated himself to accommodate them. "We can't agree on it! That was the Old Testament anyway, it doesn't apply anymore. Now if you just ask for forgiveness you're forgiven! S-so, so Dear Jesus and everyone else I'm sorry please forgive me, Amen!" He panted out the prayer quickly, his words running together. "There! Done! I'm forgiven! Justice has been served!"

"What about penance?" said L, tipping his head to get a look at Mello's face. The boy sputtered, trying to put together a proper argument for himself while he still had L's attention. Alas, a vain attempt, much like Matt's persistent struggling. L turned his attention back to Near, who was watching with a small amount of interest on his face. "You may deliver justice if you wish Near-chan."

"L, are you suggesting that I spank them?" said Near, as if he thought the idea completely ludicrous.

"Yes I am, seeing as you're too small to heft them up and drop them and if I did so it could inadvertently result in some injury they do not deserve."

Near pursed his lips a moment in thought, then said, "The idea doesn't appeal to me."

"Are you quite sure?"

"_Yes_, he is quitesure," said Roger, coming back into room in a clean suit. "And if he isn't _quite _sure, he certainly is now." He shot Near a look that clearly meant he'd best not disagree, then hauled Matt and Mello up by their shirt-collars as L frowned.

"I'm sure this qualifies as obstruction of justice," he said, as the two boys quickly put a safe distance between him and themselves. Mello, ever defiant, stuck his tongue out in L's direction the moment he was out of reach, while Matt breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now," said Roger. "I need all four of you to listen to me, and listen well. This is a very urgent matter."

"Is it about the dog?" said Matt, instantly alert.

"_No_, it is not about the dog," Roger rubbed his forehead, trying to get his thought back in order. "I received…eh…_read _a letter today that I was sent by an old friend of mine, Elizabeth Martin."

"Ahh, your old lover isn't she, Roger?" said L, looking up at the man as he remained crouched. Roger's face reddened.

"Hardly a lover…to think…what utter nonsense!" he said quickly, fiddling with his necktie to loosen it. Mello and Matt gave each other mischievous looks, and Roger said, "We were _courting _one another. We were not 'lovers' and we certainly were not…ahem…" He coughed pointedly as Matt began to giggle, amused by something Mello was whispering to him as he made an entirely inappropriate motion with his pelvis. "We certainly were _not _sexually intimate at any point in the relationship! This behavior is to cease at once!"

Mello burst into laughter. "I love how he put that! 'Sexually intimate'! Ha!" Though his laughter couldn't be stopped he muffled it against Matt's shoulder as best he could, at the same time partially hiding behind him from Roger's furious look. L put an end to the problem, snatching Mello back and covering the boy's face with his shirt to effectively silence him.

"At any rate," said Roger. "Regardless of the previous relationship between Ms. Martin and me, she will be coming here in three days time with her associates from the Board for the Proper Education of Youth. They will want to meet the House's top three students. And they expect. To meet. _Gentlemen_."

Mello peered out from under L's shirt with a disbelieving expression, Matt frowned in confusion, and even Near's eyes widened in surprise. "Gentlemen?" he said softly. "Defined as 'a man of breeding, or higher class'…"

"We must emphasize 'of higher class'," said Roger. "Elizabeth will want to see that you boys have had a well-rounded education. She will want to meet boys with knowledge of the great arts, of language, literature, and music. She will want…oh, come now Matt. There's no need for such an expression!"

Indeed, the boy's expression seemed far out of line for the situation. He looked as if he was ill. "But…but…" he said, then shuddered. "You mean we have to be dandies? _Fops_?!"

"Well of course the three of you must look presentable," said Roger. "I shall have to get you cleaned up a bit." He pressed his fingers into a steeple. "Now, I'll just put this in simple terms. When Elizabeth arrives, I need the three of you to be clean." Uncertain looks among the group. "Polite." A little groan from Matt. "Modest and humble." Mello's mouth dropped open in horror. "Well-dressed." Near's face twitched. "And, most important of all…obedient."

That sealed it. Doomsday had been announced, and it was Sunday the 27th.

* * *

_In volume 13: How To Read in Roger Ruvie's profile it says he dislikes…children. No wonder! Poor Roger, stuck in a house of weird geniuses! _

_And you all know Matt has totally always wanted a dog. Come on, you can't deny it. He's a dog person all the way._

_Mello is a cat person. (However, it was pointed out to me that he totally is not and would work better with a pit bull or ferret. So now I'm in love with the idea of him owning a ferret, which is an idea of pure brilliance. It could ride on his shoulder!)_

_Near would want a turtle. I can picture it perfectly! It's 100 percent his perfect pet! They could both just sit and stare at each other all day, plus it would move at his slow pace. They're also both introverts. No offense to Near of course, the cute little fluff-ball._

_Okay, that's enough randomness out of me :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_I really wish I could write Near better than I do. The weird thing is I already know his personality, and feel that I know it really well. Yet when I go to put it on paper and try to make him act the way he should, it seems as if he just isn't turning out quite right. Of course in this fic he is quite young, but I still want to do him justice and stay consistent with his canon character! I did my best! I hope I haven't failed in this :)_

_Thanks so much for the reviews everyone! I'll reply after all the chapters are up. Here's Chapter 2!_

* * *

"It must begin with clothes."

That very evening, with no time to waste, Roger marched his young charges into town to be fitted for new garments. The man felt utterly ridiculous with them behind him, Matt and Mello making faces at their reflections in passing windows as Near clung to L's back, a robot toy clutched in his hands. Roger hadn't had any choice in bringing the young detective along; after all, it would be sheer lunacy to assume L would simply stay in his room while Elizabeth was visiting. If he was going to be seen, he at least had to look presentable as well. But at the moment, Roger was the only one among them who qualified as "presentable". After him there was L in his wrinkled white shirt, faded jeans, sock-less feet, and untied shoes, licking a ridiculously large rainbow lollipop as he walked. Then there was Near, a pale little ghost-like boy buried his white sleepwear. Then Matt, with his flaming red hair and freckled face, standing out even more with his horrendous black and white striped shirt and long black gloves. Perhaps Mello bordered on not being _completely _atrocious in appearance. He had at least managed color coordination, to an extent. Everything he had on was black.

But if he wasn't atrocious in looks, he made up for it with his personality.

"So, Roger," he said, skipping up to walk alongside the man. "What do we get in exchange for being all 'gentlemanly' for your girlfriend?"

"What do you get?" Roger laughed. "Ha! What do you _get_? It is what you will _not _get, sir! You will _not _get your TV and radio privileges removed. You will _not _get your chocolate thrown out. You will _not _get you're your toys and video games taken away." He said this last bit with a backwards glance at the boys behind him. Near quickly pulled his robot a bit closer, and Matt gasped, sounding as if he couldn't breath.

"Y-you'll take away…my…my…" his mouth opened and closed uselessly. "But…but…I…they're…you can't…"

"I can indeed, sir, and I will, unless there is proper behavior during Elizabeth's visit," said Roger, maintaining his stern expression. There was simply no other way. He had no time to moddy-coddle and _ask _them to be good. He was their authority, and they would have to accept it!

"I'll be good," said Matt, but Mello quickly held up his hand.

"You can't give in so easily, Matt," he said. "Anyway, Roger can't do that."

"Oh, can't I?"

"Ahhh," said L, speaking for the first time since they'd left the house. "I see what you're getting at Mello-chan."

"Indeed," said Near. "He has a devious mind; it's very like him to think of this."

Mello smirked. "Here's the way it's going to go Roger. If you take away our things, we have nothing to lose. And I can promise you we will be complete brats when Elizabeth comes. But if instead you offer to _reward _us, well, then we'd have something to work for."

Roger looked at a loss for what to say, and L spoke before he could manage a sound. "There is a flaw in your plan, Mello-chan," he said. "Though I don't approve of blackmailing Roger and wouldn't allow you to do it regardless, you have overlooked something. Your plan simply isn't very intelligent. You should _want _to impress Elizabeth-san and her friends and prove yourself to them. Gaining the favor of others is key in the line of work you are pursuing. Not only that, but…" he leaned down for a closer look at Mello, examining him. "You are one who could blend in with a variety of people. You should practice this skill, as it could come in very useful for you. Still," he hooked his finger in his finger in his mouth thoughtfully. "Even if your plan was better, I can't allow it. This is rather like a game we must play, you see? If you lose, it would be a bad reflection on me."

Roger rolled his eyes. As if these children could possibly mar L's image. His appearance alone was enough to not only mar it, but shatter it to pieces and burn it to ashes. Still, there was no sense in handing complete control of the situation over to L. "Not only that, Mello," he said dryly. "But your things would be taken away _after _the fact. A consequence, not a ransom. I shall certainly not be giving you a thing in exchange for proper behavior."

Mello folded his arms sulkily as they continued down the street, and as Matt came up beside him he said, "I think I did things right in that situation, Mels. _I _didn't get a bunch of words thrown at me."

"Oh, shut up," said Mello. "You were just being a kiss-up." He made his voice high and whiny. "Oh, oh, don't take away my precious video games; I'll do anything you want! I'll be good!" He ended with a particularly loud whine. "Hm. At least I stood up for myself."

"You didn't 'stand up for yourself'," said Near, as he made his robot "fly" alongside him. "You simply made a poorly thought out attempt at gaining something. It was rather like asking for a bounty before you've caught the criminal."

Mello surely would have tackled the boy if he hadn't been safely on L's back. As it was, he gave him a fierce glare over his shoulder.

"Now, now, enough of this squabbling," said Roger. "There is shopping to be done!"

…

"In the words of Herman Melville, 'Stripped of the cunning artifices of the tailor, and standing forth in the garb of Eden - what a sorry set of round-shouldered, spindle-shanked, crane-necked varlets would civilized men appear!' Not only are clothes a necessary part of our society, but one should look upon them as a blessing as well. And indeed, is it not an honor to garb oneself in fine cotton, silk, and cashmere?" Roger fussily brushed the sleeves of his already perfectly clean suit even as he spoke, standing in the dressing room of a fine boutique. "Would you not agree, boys?"

"Oooh," Matt groaned miserably as he stared in his reflection in the mirror, wearing a crisp white collared shirt and pale blue sweater-vest. "I look ridiculous."

"It was Epictetus who said, 'Know, first, who you are; and then adorn yourself accordingly'," said Near, as L buttoned up his shirt. "Epictetus was around long before Melville. Quite frankly I believe he was significantly more intelligent. I've considered the matter of who I am, and have come to the conclusion that who I am detests these clothes. They feel as if they're suffocating me." He made a slight face as he pulled at the bowtie around his neck.

"Ha, ha, Near! You look like a penguin!" said Mello, strutting in front of the mirror. "I on the other hand look rather dashing." He gave his lapels a sharp tug, pulling the jacket tighter about his shoulders. "How's thisfor dressing like a gentleman Roger?"

"Yes, you look like quite the little man, Mello," said Roger, glad to at least be getting _some _cooperation. But his pleased expression slowly faded, as he realized what had to be done before this store was left. It was up to him to accomplish what most would think utterly impossible.

"L," he began slowly, choosing his words with care. "They are quite a few fine suits in this shop, wouldn't you agree?"

"Hm, yes," said L, having become distracted with a frayed string he'd found upon the floor. The man behind the front counter gave him an odd look as the young man tipped his head and delicately picked up his find between two fingers.

"Perhaps there is one you have a liking for?"

"No," said L, twisting his head around and upside down, then holding the string above him. "Of course, I haven't done a very thorough investigation of the garments available here. However, of what I've seen nothing appeals to me. Why do you ask?" he suddenly brought the string closer to his face. "This…is polyester. Does it not seem like blasphemy to have an unnatural fiber in such an expensive shop?"

"Roger, I refuse to wear these," said Near calmly, beginning to clumsily unbutton the shirt that had only just been put on him. "Not under any circumstance. I cannot think in them. I'm quite sure this awful ribbon is cutting off the blood circulation to my brain." He hurriedly loosened the bowtie, looking thoroughly rumpled.

"Um, can I refuse to wear these under any circumstance too?" said Matt, beginning to pull off his vest. "They make me look like a nerd."

"You most certainly can not," said Roger. "How about this? If I take the vest out of the equation and replace it with a tie, will you cooperate?"

Matt frowned uncertainly. "But, I think ties look stupid…"

Mello turned around slowly from his mirror, his expression livid. It was a bit too late that Matt noticed the navy blue tie around his neck.

"On second thought that sounds like a great idea" he said quickly. "I mean ties look very business-y and gentlemanly and wonderful. They're great."

Mello smirked. "You better stick to that if you don't want to end up with your GameBoy in the toilet."

"Well, there," said Roger. "That's settled. Now, Near, surely there must be some compromise we can make?"

"No. There is none." The boy sat down as he began to pull of his suit pants right outside the dressing rooms. "I won't wear it. You may punish me for it all you wish, but I will not change my mind."

Roger huffed in exasperation. "It would only be for a few hours!"

"I refuse."

"Pft. Who cares?" said Mello. "Let him look _low-class_ while I look like an aristocrat. You can just tell Elizabeth that I'm first now, and have Near take their coats and hats or something."

Near sent a little glare in Mello's direction as he sat upon the floor in his underwear, before he pulled his white shirt back over his head. Roger caught this look immediately, and an idea sprang to his mind. Near was a somewhat competitive boy, wasn't he? He didn't want to be outdone, and this was also a perfect way to dispose of the little problem with L.

Roger went over to L quickly, who was now comparing his first string with another he'd found in the area. "L," Roger said, in hushed tones. "Something must be done about Near. It is crucial that he be presentable for Elizabeth's arrival."

"I agree," said L, tying his two strings together. "However, he seems rather resolute. I don't believe there is much to be done at this point." He glanced over his shoulder at the boy. "Near-chan, you'll have to wear the clothes or I'll spank you."

"Then I suppose you'll have to do so," said Near, not fazed in the least by the threat. L might as well have said he would throw feathers at him.

"Yes!" said Mello. "He deserves it."

"No, no, L. Your attention please," said Roger, physically turning L's face back toward him. "It's quite obvious threats are useless. However," he lowered his voice even further, "the boy does have a bit of a competitive streak, especially when it comes to you I'd say."

"Ah, I see what you are suggesting Roger," said L, nodding.

"You do?"

"I do indeed. A most clever idea. If I wear such clothes, Near-chan will feel it necessary to do the same in order to match me lest I outdo him."

"Yes," said Roger. "Exactly that. Ah, but perhaps it shall disrupt your thinking ability to wear such things." He sighed dramatically. "I understand of course. I wouldn't want you to be _mentally impaired_."

L frowned. "Nonsense. I shall be nothing of the sort. I shall begin a search of this store at once. Simply pay for your things and wait for me outside. Go ahead and buy the clothes for Near as well."

Smiling in silent triumph, Roger got the boys back into their other clothes and took their purchases to the front counter, where the clerk looked terribly relieved to know they were going to depart at last. Taking them just outside to an ice cream shop across the street, he occupied them with the sweets as he waited for L's arrival anxiously. It had suddenly occurred to him that the young man probably didn't have the slightest clue on how to pick the appropriate size, and was beginning to have visions of an atrocious over-sized suit, when the shop door across the street opened at last, and L stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"Oh good Lord," said Roger, as dropped his head into his hand. There was a gasp from Matt, and Mello sprang out of his seat to meet L as he approached. Near's eyes had widened, the ice cream beginning to drip onto his hand.

"Roger," he began slowly. "What-"

"Don't," said the man. "Just don't say a word. The lot of you are determined to humiliate me at all costs, it's clear enough."

The problem was not at all that L's suit was too big. Quite the contrary; in fact it had a marvelous fit. L had even managed to get himself dress shoes, though Roger doubted he was wearing socks with them. No, the problem lay in the suit's color.

Pink.

Pure Pink. Not bright, not pale. Just pink.

Even the tie.

"I think it looks excellent," said Mello, having jumped up to cling to L's shoulders and not giving him any choice except to carry him. "People with black hair can wear pink very well."

"Yes, I thought it looked rather nice too," said L. "So, what do you think Roger-san?"

Roger choked back his initial response, which would have been far from polite. What followed were several moments of mental struggle, during which the old man's face turned varying shades of red before he said tensely, "What _possessed _you?"

L gazed up at the clouds overhead in thought. "Well, I had a cake yesterday. A pink one, with a strawberry on top and icing swirls all over. I rather liked it, and this color reminded me of it. I felt I would be happy to wear something that was rather like a cake." Setting Mello upon the ground, he began to rummage through the bag he had also carried from the store. From within the tissue paper inside, he withdrew a little pink dress and swiftly removed a cupcake pin that was upon its collar. Holding it out to Roger, he said, "The cashier said I 'absolutely could not' purchase only the pin, so I had to get the dress as well." He fastened the pin to the lapel of his jacket, looking terribly pleased with it.

"You should have gotten a top hat as well," said Near. "You could be the perfect Willy Wonka."

"Willy Wonka doesn't wear pink," said Matt. "Haven't you read the book?"

"Story books do not appeal to me."

"Near," L crouched down directly in front of the boy to get his attention. "Have you considered that if ever you are to succeed me, you must be able to rise to the occasion, whatever that occasion may be? In refusing this, you are showing a great weakness." Near's eyes widened slightly. "Are you not prepared to go to any lengths to win the game? Everyone else has surpassed you in this."

"Oh," Near glanced about a moment, before examining L's suit again. "I feel very much that this is unfair manipulation."

"Manipulation is part of the game. We have considered the situation, taken into account your weaknesses, and taken advantage of them," said L, perfectly blunt. "Of course, if you presented no weaknesses there would be no manipulation. You are saying the clothes are your weakness, but if you instead did not reveal that they bother you and simply wore them…"

"Then there would be no room for manipulation, because I had taken advantage of my own weakness, which would end up being to my advantage," said Near. "I understand the concept. I will…_consider _the idea. However I'll make no promises."

"Ah, there then," said L. "Roger, it seems this is the most we can accomplish for now. I am quite certain that if everyone on earth had this boy's personality, mankind would not get a thing done simply because of its sheer stubborn will."

Roger nodded. "Indeed. That's why such a child is a rarity."

L picked Near up as they prepared to leave the café, since although the boy could walk he wasn't particularly steady on his feet. Not only that, but having considerably shorter limbs than the rest of them gave him difficulty in keeping up. It was altogether a strange picture, the white-shrouded boy providing a stark contrast to L's pink clothes. Near fiddled with the young man's pin a moment, twisting it about in thought, before he said, "Are you glad there isn't more than one of me? I mean, do you really think it would be a bother if there were more people like me?"

"I certainly think it's a good thing you're the only one of your kind," said L. "There being only one of you makes you all the more important."

Near didn't often smile but he did so then, a very small almost-invisible motion of his mouth. "Oh. I suppose that's a rather good thing of you to say."

"Besides," said L, as Roger motioned to them from ahead. "If there was more than one of you, I fear poor Mello-chan would lose his mind."

"Yes," Near glanced ahead, where Mello was already glancing back with a distressed look as he realized L was having a conversation and he wasn't a part of it. "He likes to say he's your favorite, and he's _horrid _about it sometimes."

"Well, I can't pick favorites between the three of you. I can pick who succeeds the others in performance, but that doesn't mean I like that particular one better. But I probably shouldn't tell Mello that; it may make him rather upset."

"Probably. You should see him when he's throwing a tantrum. It's actually rather amusing, if one is a safe distance away."

"I'll probably get to see one soon enough," said L, repositioning Near onto his back. "Considering the difficulties that shall be arising as Sunday approaches, I'm sure he'll have a fine opportunity to be a brat about something."

"Come along, let's not drag our feet," said Roger, as the two of them finally caught up with the others and Mello quickly latched onto L's free hand. "It's getting rather late. And these boys still need to be cleaned up before bed." He shot a meaningful look in Matt's direction, and the dirty little boy glanced up from his video game with a look of horror.

"You…you mean," he gulped. "By 'clean' do you mean just putting our clothes in the laundry and dusting ourselves off 'clean'…or…or do you mean…?"

"I mean the _proper _kind of clean Matt," said Roger.

"Oh, here we go," said Near.

Mello laughed, pointing his finger tauntingly in Matt's direction. "Ha! Matty has to get a bath!"

* * *

_Mello is such a brat. I just love that about him. Bratty children are fun to write about :) Have you ever watched the movie Eloise at the Plaza? Bratty. Main. Character. Like a six year old girl-Mello. Kids like that would drive me crazy in real-life of course…_

"_Near-chan, you'll have to wear the clothes or I'll spank you" was inspired by "Misa-san take this seriously or I'll kick you", on page 63 of volume 6. Of course L wouldn't threaten to kick a child!_

_I have proof that L will even change his clothes if it means winning/solving/getting farther along in something: page 173 volume 5. He dressed up as a paramedic. He didn't like it but...he did it :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_I think my brain is frying up. The average temperature during the past few days in my little area of SoCal has been well into the 100's (highest so far is 111 degrees). Luckily it's early right now so it's still cool. _

_So here is Chapter 3! Yes, yes, I know in How to Read in Matt's profile it says he dislikes going outside, and with him as an adult I have no problem picturing that. However, Matt as a child is a little different in my mind. I can't get rid of the idea that he would have liked playing outside when he was younger. I'm just not one of those who can stand to characterize Matt as the sad victim or the gloomy loner or the corner moper. I imagine him differently :)_

_On to the chapter!_

* * *

As many little boys do, Matt enjoyed playing in the dirt. Now, he certainly liked his video games and activities that required one to be an absolute coach potato, and could remain enthralled with said activities for hours, but getting himself as filthy as possible outside in the mud was not something he would pass up. Perhaps it was _because _of the video games that this appealed to him; after all, what was more heroic than valiantly charging through bushes with a stick-sword, or crawling through mud with a plastic gun and army hat, or perching high in a tree as a lookout for your group of elite warrior-spies? It was called imagination, and after it had been fed on a steady diet of RPG plots and shooter-game action, it was more than ready to strike out on its own, bringing these video game fantasies to life. He didn't mind that he was usually alone in these activities. Mello didn't understand how one could win in a game that was purely in the imagination, so it didn't appeal to him. As for the other children, Matt found it far too much of a bother to have to describe his entire plot to them. Even if he did so, they wouldn't remember it and would ruin the whole thing. He didn't want to talk about what he was going to do; he simply wanted to do it.

He'd been particularly enthralled with his adventures that morning, during which time he'd finally had a playmate in his games that wouldn't demand explanations or mess up the plot. Of course, Roger had put an end his associations with that playmate rather quickly by shipping the dog out of the house. Regardless, that is rather off the subject.

Matt was usually able to avoid baths for days at a time, getting away with merely scrubbing his face and then settling into bed before anyone managed to see how dirty he was. He honestly had never thought of a good reason for why he didn't like baths. Perhaps it was the smelly soap; perhaps it was that he hated getting water in his nose. Perhaps was that he looked so ridiculously _pink _when he was clean. Most likely it was a combination of the three, along with the fact that he had gotten it into his head that being clean was somehow very girlish and being dirty was certainly the masculine thing to do. After all, the heroes in his video games were always dirty, and they looked very brave and warrior-like when they were covered in dirt from their long journeys and heroic quests.

He could never tell Mello this of course. That boy was almost _always _clean.

At any rate, resisting a bath was simply a necessary action if one was going to be forced upon him. Especially on this occasion, since Matt was certain Roger had something particularly nasty in store. On the way back to the House the man had begun babbling all these nonsense quotes about cleanliness that had been said hundreds of years ago by dead guys. Not that they had been dead then, but they were now. There could be no doubt that Roger planned to have every last speck of dirt scrubbed off of them, and not just today. He'd want them to be perfectly clean on Sunday as well and probably on every day leading up to Sunday!

Oh, the horror! The wretched unfairness of the predicament! Matt felt he was perfectly old enough to decide for himself when he should get a bath. So the moments they stepped onto the Wammy's House grounds, Matt was off and out of sight. He barricaded himself up in the tree house in the old oak tree behind the house, and there he remained as the sun began to set, playing his GameBoy. Unfortunately this wasn't an especially good hiding place, especially since Mello was gleefully against him in this case. Mello knew perfectly well where Matt would be hiding, and after letting Roger and L search about vainly for a while, he made the grandest "saving the day" act he possibly could, leading the other two traitorously to Matt's hideaway.

"He's right up there!" Mello said, as he lead L and Roger to the tree house. Near was back within the house waiting for them, and Roger simply didn't have the patience to deal with such a situation. He put his hands on his hips as he glared up into the tree.

"Matt, come down from there at once!" he said. There was only silence in response. "Oh, bother! Mello, go up get him down."

"I can't open the door," said Mello. "I think he's put bricks on it. A _lot _of bricks. The door won't budge."

"I don't have time for this nonsense!" said Roger. "Matt, do as you're told!"

Something suddenly sailed through the air out the tree house window, landing and splattering just at Roger's feet. A green water balloon. A goggled face peered cautiously down at them out the window.

"Stop bothering me!" Matt called down. "I'm not coming out!"

"Come now, child, this is preposterous!" said Roger. "You're filthy; you can't possibly live your life like a pig!"

"I can if I want to! This is a violation of my rights!"

"Rights! _Rights_? Ridiculous! You are a _minor_; you are to do as I say!"

Matt stuck his tongue out at Roger from the window, before disappearing again and launching a barrage of water balloons. At least one of them was bound to hit their target; and indeed one did. A particularly large red balloon popped upon Roger's head, drenching his suit. Both L and Mello winced slightly at the impact, and Roger slowly wiped the dripping water from his face.

"Roger-san," L began, only to be swiftly cut off.

"Not a word," said Roger. "I am going inside. I can't deal with these wretched beasts another moment. I want them bathed thoroughly and put into bed, all three. I don't care what it takes; I don't care if you must stay up all night. This will be done even if I must enlist Her Majesty's royal guards to do it! L, I never ask you for a thing. The least you can do is ensure this is done for me."

"I actually had a criminal report to finish, but-"

"I'm sure this easily takes priority," said Roger, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Now, I'm going to go have a nice large glass of brandy and go to bed. _Good night_, to the lot of you."

Roger turned and marched off, and Mello said quietly, "That man is going to have a heart attack any day now if he keeps this up. He's way too uptight."

L didn't say a word, instead circling the tree house slowly with his thumbnail between his teeth. Mello followed close behind him, nearly bumping into his leg when the young man stopped abruptly.

"Matt-chan!" said L, and half of Matt's face appeared above the windowsill. "Will you come down now?"

The little face frowned. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Very."

"Ah, well then." L leaned down and whispered in Mello's ear, "You can climb there into the window, can't you? I'm sure you know how to make him come down."

Mello grinned. "Of course I can!" He gave L a salute before skipping off to the tree, climbing half way up with the rope ladder then taking an alternate route through the branches up to the side of the tree house. Matt looked down at him in horror.

"I'll push you!" he said.

"I don't believe you," said Mello, reaching up and getting a hold on the windowsill. Matt yelped.

"No! Stop it! I'm not coming down!"

"Sure you are," Mello tumbled inside, landing on top of Matt and wrestling against him for the GameBoy. "You're going down just like this is!"

Back on solid ground, L cocked his head curiously at the sounds of the scuffle. Several moments later, the GameBoy flew out the window, landing with a soft thump in the grass, and a shriek sounded from the tree house. There were several thumps, then the door flew open and Matt was down the rope ladder as fast as he could go, sprinting over to his precious toy. Mello followed much more calmly, looking terribly pleased with himself, and L got a hold on Matt before the boy could run off again.

"I'll take _that_," said Mello, plucking the GameBoy from Matt's grasp as L carried him over his shoulder toward the house. "Ooooh, level 23! I hope you saved it!" His fingers crept threateningly toward the off-switch.

"Mello-chan, don't make this anymore difficult than it needs to be," said L, beginning to sound rather tired. "Save the game for him."

Mello pouted, but did as L said and saved the game before stuffing it in his pocket. Matt had yet to cease his protests, none of which were very original or convincing, and L said at last, "Matt-chan, please think up a reasonable argument _before _you decide to debate with me. As it is I can think up a perfectly good response to every one of the points you've brought up. Your babbling is useless."

Matt almost immediately lapsed into silence, hanging limply over L's shoulder for the rest of the trip inside. Near was waiting for them just outside L's room, holding a yellow rubber ducky in his hands, and he rolled his eyes as he caught sight of them approaching.

"I saw Roger go into his room a few minutes ago," he said. "The lot of you have exasperated the man."

"As if you hadn't helped!" said Mello. "Remember? Just earlier you were being a pain about your clothes!"

"That matter was peacefully resolved. This does not appear peaceful to me."

"Well, at least _I _haven't caused anyone any problems," said Mello pompously. "I've been just _perfect _all day."

L set Matt down at last, holding him steady until the boy caught his balance. "No running off," he said. "You may find this terribly unpleasant, but there's no way around it. Besides…" he paused a moment in thought, running his thumb over his lip before clicking the nail between his teeth. "I think this may not be as bad as you like to think it is."

"How's that?" said Matt gloomily.

"You like to imagine don't you? You like to bring your video games to life and pretend the places in them are real, don't you?" Matt responded in the affirmative, and L took his hand to lead him into his room, motioning for Mello and Near to follow. "I've never done much imagining myself, but I suppose I could try. In fact, while we were coming back inside I tried it and I realized something: this house's bathtubs are very boring."

Matt's eyes widened slightly. "They are, aren't they? The only thing I can imagine about them that they're smelly old trunks filled with dirty water. And the soap is slimy and smells funny."

"That's because Roger chose that soap," said Near gravely.

"Yeah, its old people soap," said Mello.

"Exactly," said L. "And heroes can't get baths in old trunks filled with dirty water, or lather themselves with old people soap, can they?"

Matt shook his head quickly. "They can't _at all_."

"Where do heroes get baths then?"

"Usually somewhere exotic! Like a clear river in a forest. Or under a tall waterfall. Or in alabaster halls."

"Alabaster halls?" said Mello with a skeptical look.

"Yes," said Matt. "With marble pillars, and oils in fancy little glass bottles."

"Those are very good imaginings Matt-chan," said L. "Those things do sound rather pleasant. You are setting your standards high for your bathing locations, evidently."

"Yes I am," said Matt, sounding rather proud of himself.

"So average bathing facilities simply won't do, will they?"

"They won't."

"Then perhaps you will like this better," said L, pushing open the door to his own personal bathroom. It was very like Matt's "alabaster halls" come to life, albeit in a smaller way. There was plenty of space in the white-tiled room, with a bathtub that was large and deep and was fed by three little faucets of water. Opening a silver-lidded glass jar beside the tub and withdrawing a cherry sucker from it, L said, "What do you think?"

Matt grinned. "I think this could work quite well."

…

As it turned out, bath time went well after all. Under Matt's instruction, the bathwater became a pool hidden in a quiet grove on an enchanted island and soaps and shampoos – none of which smelled like old people – became magical potions. Then, just as quickly, the bath could become a sea filled with pirates, or the Fountain of Youth itself. Mello joined in the games despite the fact that there was nothing for him to win, and even Near quietly assigned himself roles when he was asked who he was going to be in each new scenario. Though he never actually did anything in those roles, being much too occupied slowly moving his duck through the mountains of bubbles.

"The three of you are shriveling up," said L, who had sat back to simply survey the games once the boys were scrubbed clean. "And it's getting rather late."

"Yes," said Near, setting his ducky on the side of the tub and holding out his arms demandingly. "I'm done."

L lifted him from the water and toweled him dry, and Mello and Matt followed despite their protests. As soon as he had the towel around him, Mello sprinted for the bed and burrowed under the white sheets and blankets, dripping hair and all. "This is my spot!" he called, popping his head out only to have it disappear among the mounds of fluffy pillows. Matt ran over to join him, giggling as the two of them collided among the blankets.

"I don't recall inviting you to use my bed as well," said L.

"Doesn't matter," said Mello, trying to fend off Matt's hands as they launched a merciless tickle-attack against him. "I invited myself, and that's good enough."

L leaned over the bed, looking down at them as he tapped his finger against his lip. "I suppose you'll make a fuss if I try to remove you?"

"Of course," said Mello.

"Please L, can we stay?" said Matt, deciding to be polite. "We're very deep sleepers, so we don't kick or anything." Which wasn't quite true, as Mello had a habit of ending up with his head at the foot of the bed with his blankets twisted around him in a strangle hold, but of course that was information best left out in this situation.

"I'll go get our pajamas!" said Mello, springing from the bed and disappearing off down the hall, his damp feet nearly slipping on the tile. Near came up behind L and tugged his sleeve lightly for his attention.

"May I stay as well?" he asked, his tone of voice making it seem as if he didn't care either way what L's response what be.

"Yes," was the reply, so Near crawled into bed beside Matt, who quickly put one arm around his neck and ruffled his hair. Mello returned after a few minutes, tossing around the various articles of clothing, already dressed in a pair of loose blue pants himself. A bit of a fuss was caused when he crawled into bed however.

"I get one side of L to myself," he said. "His right side. And I want to sleep farthest away from Near.

"Jeez Mello, you're such a priss," said Matt. "Now I have to be next to Near."

"Too bad," Mello pushed the other two aside, then held out his arms to L. "Come on! Oh, and tell us a story too!"

"I don't know any good stories," said L, settling between Mello (who latched onto his arm) and the other two, then automatically putting his thumb in his mouth.

"Then make one up," said Matt. "I want to hear a story too!"

"I don't think I can come up with anything that would entertain you-"

"Well whatever story you make up, just make sure the main character is an amazingly dashing blond man who owns a chocolate factory and rides a motorcycle," said Mello. "And he's so rich that he can wear feathers and leather every single day!"

"Mello, I believe you've just given a perfect example of the literary term 'Gary Stu'," said Near.

Mello lunged at him, trying to get a hold on his hair as L held him back until he settled down and sulked quietly, glaring at Near with narrowed eyes from across L's body.

"Are there any other character suggestions?" L asked.

"Oh! I have one!" said Matt excitedly. "He owns one of those nice old American cars, and its bright orange, and he plays video games really well. _And _he's really tall."

Mello giggled. "Yeah, good luck being tall Matt."

"It's just a character!" said Matt, blushing slightly.

"What about you Near-chan?" said L. "Do you have a suggestion as well?"

"No," the boy said softly. "I can't imagine anything."

Mello smirked and leaned forward slightly. "Loooseeer," he hissed, as if simply by lowering his voice he could prevent himself from being heard. L pushed him back onto the pillows pointedly.

"Come on Near, you have to be able to imagine _something_," said Matt. "You're the number 1 kid here, aren't you?"

Near was silent a moment, twirling his finger his hair. He then said, "Well…how about…a man who is a detective like L. And he… he has one friend."

"Only one?" said Matt.

"I suppose he would want more than one, but I thought more than that would be too generous. Many people don't like him because…well I'm not sure why."

"Because he's an annoying know-it-all," Mello grumbled.

"Go on then, L. You have your characters!" said Matt. "Now for the story!"

"Let's see then," said L. "The story starts in London." There was a long pause, filled with hard thinking, before L continued. "It's raining there, because it often rains in London. At least in this story it does."

…

L was certainly not the best storyteller, but he managed to tell his tale for a full half hour, and completed it well with all the loose ends tied up. It was only once he'd said "The End" and looked to the boys for a reaction that he realized they were already asleep. Mello and Matt were snuggled close against him and Near was beside Matt with his fingers tangled in his red hair. All of them quiet, peaceful, and – at last – out of trouble for the day.

* * *

_Yes, I suppose it was more fluff than funny, yeah? Regardless, this was a very happy chapter for me to write, because fluff is sparkly and tastes like strawberries. If that made any sense at all :)_

_Poor Near, I keep feeling sorry for him. He needs love and cuddles, even if he doesn't think he does! I can hardly believe I used to dislike him (loooong ago). Somehow I shall turn the lot of you into Near-lovers yet! You shall all see the cute shyness that is Near! Muhahahaha!_

_Hehe, sorry about that. Anyway, farewell for now! Until the next chapter :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_A quick side note (with a friendly Hello and best wishes to the anonymous reviewer "me"): I have L using Japanese honorifics simply because he uses them even in the translated English manga and I consider it part of the way he talks. L is, according to volume 13 How to Read page 59, a quarter Japanese, a quarter English, a quarter Russian, and a quarter French or Italian. This is according to Tsugumi Ohba. I can not comment on the country of origin for the other three boys, as that information is never given in any official book that I have found :) _

_Okie-dokie, now that's out of the way. I had forgotten to include the whole bit about L's honorifics earlier on, sorry about that. I feel like writing a Death Note essay…that would be fun…anyway, Chapter 4 has arrived! More info/explanations for some of the chapter's content will be given at the bottom Author's Note._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Porcelain cups, pink floral designs, the aroma of Earl Grey tea, and a white lace tablecloth was the scene that greeted Mello, Matt, and Near after they had finished their school lessons the following day. Led out to the gardens by Roger, who was feeling quite refreshed and optimistic after his glass of brandy and long rest the previous night, they were presented with their next lesson: the art of table manners and proper conversations.

Or, as Mello called it, "How To Be Prissy While Drinking Disgusting Leaf-Water Out Of Ugly Cups." Matt agreed with him that it was an accurate description of this new torture Roger had come up with for them.

"We shall of course be holding the majority of our meeting with Ms. Elizabeth here in the gardens," said Roger, motioning to the surrounding flowers, bushes, and tall climbing vines. Stone paths led throughout the plants, and where the four of them stood was the heart of the garden, where all the paths came together and the foliage was at its thickest and most beautiful around them. Here there was a white pavilion surrounded by grass, within which was a table of ornamental black metal, covered with a cloth of white lace and the various table settings that would be needed when Elizabeth arrived the day after tomorrow. There were several fountains close by, as well as fine marble Greek-style statues, all of which provided a stunning view and relaxed environment.

Of course, Mello and Matt couldn't take this environment seriously, and as for Near…well, he could have been standing in the Butchart Gardens or a trash dump, but to him it didn't seem to matter either way. He was silently distracted with the toys he'd brought with him, making them move about as Roger went on and Mello and Matt made faces behind the man's back.

"Now I've chosen everything here specifically to pertain to Elizabeth's liking," Roger said. "The only things remaining to mold to her pleasure is, of course, the three of you." He gave them a strained smile. "My dear children, we have roughly seventy-two hours left until our guest arrived, and I do not believe I have made the slightest impression upon your…rambunctious personalities. However, I believe things will work out well today. I'm sure we can all agree to cooperate…with…each other…" he trailed off with a frown at Mello and Matt's antics, until the boys noticed his look and calmed down to listen. Roger cleared his throat.

"Now," he said. "Today, we shall be practicing our table manners and maintaining polite and _humble_ conversation." He gave Mello a severe look, and the boy shrugged.

"I don't know why you're looking at _me _Roger, I'm the best one here at keeping conversations," he said.

"No, Mello, you are the best here at keeping arguments," said Roger. "I swear whoever started the Wars of the Roses must have had a personality identical to yours. But for one day, you must put this aside. You _can not _argue with Ms. Elizabeth. And not only that, but – oh, good lord! L!"

"Good afternoon Roger-san," said L, smiling happily as he came up one of the paths. "I was told you had tea and pastries out here, so I thought I would join you."

"Oh…my…well, there isn't much of either unfortunately-"

But Roger's attempts were useless. Even if it had been true that there was only enough tea and pastries for four, L would doubtlessly have stayed regardless. As it was, Mello was already instructing him on where he should be seated as Matt babbled about the new level he'd reached on his video game and Near reported some crime Mello had committed against him earlier that day, something about freezing his legos into ice cubes.

But Roger went on. He couldn't give up yet.

"The first thing we must discuss is _asking _for tea and pastries," he said, once they were all seated at the table, L with his knees pulled up to his chest. "So, put down your chocolate please Mello, you may finish it later. And Near, your robots shall have to sit at the edge of the pavilion, not on the table. What is that beeping sound?"

There was no reply, but Matt's face was looking a bit too innocent to not be suspicious. Roger frowned and held out his hand, and Matt very grudgingly handed over his GameBoy from under the table.

"We shall not be feeding these atrocious addictions whilst Ms. Elizabeth is here," said Roger. He swiftly slapped L's hand away as the young man reached for the plate of pastries, earning a horrified gasp from the boys and a shocked expression from L, but he remained steadfast. "One does not reach across the table in proper society. One asks politely for things to be passed to him. L, perhaps you could demonstrate for the boys the _right _way to behave at table. Considering they idolize you as if you were God Himself and would throw themselves off a cliff if you asked them."

L considered the situation a moment as he rubbed his hand, then said, "Mr. Roger, would you please pass the pastries?"

Roger raised his eyebrows slightly when L called him "Mr.", but moved to pass the pastries nonetheless. "Certainly, L. I would be glad to-"

"Roger-san, keki wa kudasai," L went on, utterly ignoring the fact that Roger had understood him perfectly well in English.

"Eh…yes, I heard you the first-"

"Monsieur Roger, passe les pâtisseries à moi s'il vous plait."

"L, that isn't needed-"

"Signore Roger, dammi, per favore il pasticcerie."

"Yes, I heard you the-"

"Herr Roger, bitte, geben sie mir die gebäcke."

"That is enough!" said Roger, shoving the pastries quickly into L's hands as Mello and Matt burst into giggles and even Near gave a small smile. "There is no need to tell me the same thing in five different languages! Once, in English, is quite enough for me, sir!"

"Oh, my apologies, Roger-san," said L, a mischievous little smile on his face. "I simply wanted to be polite on all sides. One can never be too polite, yes? Especially if one doesn't wish to have his hand smacked again as if he were five instead of eighteen."

Roger sighed. "Very well. Enough of these antics, this is serious business. Now, children, as L just demonstrated, one must ask politely to have food passed to them. I would like the three of you to ask in English, and English _only_."

The boys did as they were instructed, though the temptation to do as L had was almost irresistible especially for Mello, who was aching to show off his fluency in foreign tongues. Still, Roger was pleased with the result. Perhaps they _could _manage to not be complete hooligans.

"Of course we must remember our 'pleases' and 'thank-yous'," said Roger, wanting to insure that not a single thing was overlooked. "And insure that you refer to all adults present as 'Mr.' or 'Ms.'. Now, then…ah, yes! On to actually _drinking _the tea."

Unfortunately, L hadn't bothered to wait for instructions in how to drink from his cup. He picked it up rather precariously with two fingers, slurping from it loudly and setting Roger's nerves on edge with the wretched sound.

"That will not do at all!" the man said quickly. "L, please, set a proper example for the children."

L remained frozen for a moment, not even blinking. Then, very slowly, he raised his pinky finger, and took a somewhat quieter sip. "Is that more to your liking, Roger-san?" he asked.

"L," Roger huffed. "You behave as if this was a game! This is a very serious-"

L suddenly leapt forth in his seat, leaning across the table to put himself mere inches from Roger's face. "Roger-san, this is indeed a game. A very grand game. And it must _remain _a game! There are children present!"

Roger's eyes had widened, and he inched back as far as he could in his seat. "What ever is your point, sir?"

L's face was gravely serious. "Children _survive _off games Roger! If there were no games…I do believe children would cease to exist. And that would be horrific. It would be the end to everything! No more ice cream, no more picture books, and worst of all, no more birthday parties." He leaned even closer to Roger. "Which means no more birthday _cake_. A tragedy!"

"L, this is utterly ridiculous-"

"It isn't!" said L, and just as quickly as he had sprang forward he was back into his seat. "The egg came before the chicken. That is fact. I'm 99 percent sure of it!"

Roger carefully folded his hands upon his lap, forcing himself to concentrate on controlling his temper. "Very well. A _game_. Then let us continue." He picked up his cup of tea, holding it with four fingers and the pinky slightly raised. He took a careful and silent sip, then set it back down upon the plate and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "That is proper. The game is to mimic that perfectly whenever you must drink in Ms. Elizabeth's presence. Is that perfectly clear?"

"Like glass," said Matt, as he imitated Roger's technique.

"Good. Progress at last."

After a bit more instruction in the art of tea-sipping and pastry-nibbling, Roger moved on to conversation. "As much as I would love for the three of you to be required to remain completely silent during Elizabeth's visit, that is unfortunately impossible," he said. "Therefore, you must be able to converse as gentlemen. However, the first rule is not to speak unless you are spoken to."

Mello's mouth dropped open, "But-"

"Not a peep!" said Roger. "I know this is exceedingly difficult for you Mello…" He paused, glancing over at the ever-quiet Near. "But Near, my, you stay silent so well!"

Mello's face reddened, shooting a death-glare in the younger boy's direction. Roger corrected him immediately. "None of that atrocious face-making either," he said. "We must present Elizabeth with _pleasant _faces. And remember, sit straight in your chair. Maintain good posture. I beg that you do not follow L's example in this."

In all, it turned out to be a blessedly short but effective lesson. The boys cooperated for the most part and were dismissed at dinner for their meal. Roger had a shot of brandy and retired to his chambers early.

But do not assume this day was finished. For though he wore an angelic face when watched, a certain little boy had a devilish mind working beneath that blond hair of his. Oh yes, a plot was brewing. All that was left was to find the perfect accomplice…

…

For nearly a week, Matt had been seeking privacy outdoors before bedtime. These little excursions of his were never long, ten minutes at the most, and before now Mello had never had any particular interest in them. But now, with a scheme in his head, he instantly saw the opportunity. Just _what _was Matt sneaking off for?

'It reeks of suspicious activity,' Mello thought, as he snuck along behind Matt as he left the house and walked through the grass, around to the building's side. 'My, my, what is this? Some naughty activity perhaps? Haha, _blackmail _Matty.' He turned on the little video camera he'd brought with him, holding it at the ready as Matt disappeared behind a large smelly dumpster. Mello edged the camera's lens carefully around the side and…

He grinned triumphantly, holding back a laugh. 'Ooooh, you've done it this time Matt! Oh man, this is free favors for life worthy! Who ever would have thought you were so bad?'

Indeed, who would have thought it? For there was Matt, sitting against the opposite side of the dumpster with…of all things…a cigarette in his mouth. He had pulled a pack of them out from beneath the dumpster, where he'd evidently been keeping them hidden. His eyes were closed and his head was leaned back, utterly relaxed as he inhaled the smoke. Mello shut off the camera, having already documented the evidence he needed. Now for the fun part.

He got to his feet, pretending to simply walk casually by. Of course, as soon as he came into sight Matt choked and jerked the cigarette from his mouth, tossing it beneath the dumpster. Mello stopped abruptly.

"Oh, there you are Matt," he said, unable to keep the gloating tone out of his voice. "_What _have you been doing? I've looked everywhere for you!"

"I haven't been doing anything," said Matt quickly, his fingers twitching nervously. "Nope, nothing at all. Not a thing. Just…sitting. Fresh air before bed. It's good for you."

"Is it reeeaaallly?" said Mello, leaning down to smirk directly in Matt's face. "Well, I know something that's _bad_ for you."

"What is it?" said Matt, running his tongue anxiously across his lips.

"It's smoking," said Mello, smiling sweetly.

Matt laughed, sounding as if he was on the verge of hysteria. "Oh, yeah. Smoking. Bad. Very bad. Smoking kills. No one should ever do it. I know I wouldn't. Ever. Yeah, it's very bad."

"Iiiiisn't it?" Mello rocked back and forth upon his toes. "It's a very naughty thing to do."

"Yup. Oh…"

Mello had taken out the video camera and turned it on, beginning to rewatch the video. "A very naughty thing indeed. I'm sure Roger would love to see this. I'm sure he'd especially love to be woken up to see it. Wouldn't he be in a _marvelous _and _lenient _mood?"

"Mello…Mello don't!"

"I'm telling!" said Mello in a sing-song voice, beginning to back away. "I'm going to tell on you!" Matt scrambled to his feet, and instantly Mello dashed off, running at full speed back toward the house, waving the camera over his head. "Oh, Roger! I have something very interesting here!"

"Don't Mello! Please! I'll do whatever you want, just don't!"

Mello stopped running instantly, slowly turning back around to face his pursuer, who stood panting behind him. Mello giggled. "You should lay off the cigs. You're getting all out of breath!"

"Mello, come on. Don't tell."

"What'll you give me?" said Mello, examining his nails carelessly.

"Anything. What do you want?"

"Just some help with a little something-"

Matt drew in his breath sharply. "You! You're going to do something when Ms. Elizabeth gets here, aren't you?"

"Me?" Mello widened his eyes as if shocked. "Why ever would you think such a thing? Me, plotting mischief for when Elizabeth arrives? Never!" He smiled slowly. "I would never, evercause mischief when she arrives. Hmmm, but _after _she arrives…"

"Mello, no," said Matt, folding his arms stubbornly. "You can't do that. You'll get us both in trouble."

Mello nodded, putting on a disappointed expression. "You're right. How unfortunate. I wouldn't want _both _of us in trouble." He shrugged. "Just you. So I'll go show Roger this video."

"Mel-"

"And I'm sure he'll be so very cross at you he'll take away your GameBoy."

"But-"

"Maybe he'll make you stand in a corner too."

"You can't just-"

"Who knows, he might even spank you."

"I don't want-"

Mello's eyes sparkled devilishly, and he gave Matt a toothy grin. "Maybe _L _will spank you."

Matt squeaked, his expression horrified. "Alright! Alright, alright, alright! I'll do it! I'll help you!"

"Of course you will," said Mello, slinging the video camera around his neck by its shoulder strap. "So, first things first. We need some feather pillows."

* * *

_The War of the Roses was a blood feud in England starting in 1455 between the supporters of the House of York and the House of Lancaster._

_The languages L spoke in are, in order, Japanese, French, Italian, and German. I am not fluent in any of them, so if there are mistakes I am very sorry and would appreciate them being pointed out. For French, Italian, and German I used online translators, so I have my suspicions that at least one of them is wrong. Anyway, L says just about the same thing in each sentence as he did in English, "Mr. Roger, please give me the pastries." At least, he's supposed to be saying that._

_Lots of hugs to all my reviewers :) You all have me on a permanent happy-writer high._


	5. Chapter 5

_Time suddenly seems to be moving much faster. The days are going by so quick! Anime Expo starts in less than a week, and I'm so excited! Nervous too though, as it will be my first time attending a convention. I hope it turns out to be as fun as I imagine it will be._

_Here is Chapter 5 for you, with more French in it which is probably incorrect is some way because I honestly don't know a smidge of French. Amazing that I received only advice on the French in the last chapter, but none of the other languages. Is everyone learning French then?_

* * *

Saturday, during the brief hours that Roger managed to have the three boys' attention, was spent going over the lessons already learned, as well being given an endless amount of new rules, special do's-and-don'ts for Elizabeth's visit. Roger was distracted otherwise for most of the day however, fussing over the house and yard, insuring that there were fresh tea leaves, that the suits had been cleaned and pressed, and that fresh baked French pastries were on their way. There was plenty to keep him nervous and occupied, so while he fretted about this and that, Mello and Matt roamed sneakily about the house, collecting various articles and stowing them in a backpack. Near was his usual self, sitting quietly playing with his toys, though he began to notice the other two boys as they whispered and giggled, mischievous grins on their faces. Not that he was going to do a thing about it, but he couldn't help but be curious about what they were plotting.

However, despite Roger's distraction, he did manage to sneak in one last "very important" lesson.

"The art of ballroom dancing goes back well over a century," said Roger, having assembled his three students into the common room. The furniture had been moved back, making a large round space in the middle of the room. "Now, what you shall be learning is the waltz, which isn't too hard once you've gotten it. Therefore, today I have employed the help of Miss Linda, Miss Penelope, and Miss April. All three have already been educated in the waltz. Girls, will you come in please?"

The three girls entered the room on cue, smiling sweetly in their fine dresses as the boys cringed in their suits.

"We have to dance with _girls_?" said Matt.

"Do we have to hold their hands?" said Mello, sounding disgusted and wrinkling his nose in the girls' direction.

"Well it would be far from proper if you didn't," said Roger. "Elizabeth would never approve. Of course you're going to dance with the girls, and you shall hold their hands if I say you must! They are all very sweet young ladies and you should treat them respectfully. They shall be teaching you today after all. Girls, you may choose your partners."

Penelope abruptly went to Near and April to Matt, who looked positively terrified. The couple remaining was, unfortunately, Linda with Mello. The girl looked at him with a very blank face, though it was clear enough she was utterly disgusted. She flipped her hair back over her shoulders, raising her head proudly.

"Well, then," she said, approaching Mello with a very bold gait. "I suppose that leaves just you and me."

Mello glared at her, his arms folded over his chest. "Doesn't mean I'm gonna dance with you, _Tails_," he said, giving the pig-tails in her hair a tug. She looked ready to pull his hair right back, but Roger clapped his hands for attention.

"Though the men usually lead in waltz," he said. "Today it shall be the girls' turn, considering they already know the steps. Follow their lead as best you can boys. We shall go slowly at first, without music. You may begin."

L came into the room and took a seat upon the couch as they started, crouching to watch them as he devoured a large plate of truffles. It seemed that Matt and April were the only ones getting anywhere. Penelope was having a difficult time coaxing Near to move at all, and as for Mello and Linda…well…

"Ugly! Your hair is ugly!" said Mello. "I don't want to dance with an ugly girl!"

"You can't call it ugly, you hypocrite! It looks almost exactly like yours!" said Linda, tweaking at a lock of his hair.

"It doesn't!" he said, batting her hand away. "It looks very different because it's on _my _head! Which is better than _yours_!"

"Well, at least I look like what I am, a girl. Unlike _you_."

Mello's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in horror, his hands clenching into fists. Luckily he was stopped before he could give into his temper any further. Roger stepped onto the scene calling for an immediate halt, but it was L who physically prevented an escalation of the situation, putting down his cake and going over to keep a firm grip upon Mello's arm.

"You two will simply have to put aside your differences and get along," said Roger. "We have very limited time to accomplish this. There is no time for useless bickering!"

"I'm perfectly willing to dance with him," said Linda. "But he has to apologize to me first for calling me ugly and being so heinously rude."

Mello's mouth immediately tightened, clamping shut against any apology that someone might have attempted to force out of it. Roger glared down at him, though he already knew it was utterly useless to stare him down. Mello would do nothing but stare back in a doubly ferocious manner. His face was beginning to turn a rather odd shade of red, and Matt said quickly, "Um…you should stop bothering him…really…"

"Or what?" said Linda. "Is he going to throw a tantrum like a little child?"

"Sort of," said Matt, a note of anxiety in his voice. "Come on Mel, don't get so upset…"

"Don't tell me what to do," said Mello from between clenched teeth. More early signs of a tantrum began to show, his breath coming in quick little gasps.

"Mello-chan, sit down," L put both hands on the boy's shoulders, and with a bit of physical encouragement on his part, was able to get Mello to sit. Mello folded his arms and sulked, his whole body tense as he glowered up at Linda.

"I won't," he said, failing to specify what exactly he wouldn't do. However, the point was that he was perfectly willing to defy every last one of them, and therefore what the "I won't" was directed at was irrelevant. L placed his hands on the sides on Mello's head, tipping it back so that his face peered up at me.

"You refuse to dance with Linda-chan?" he said

"Yes," said Mello stubbornly. "I won't."

"Ah. What if I gave you chocolate cake?"

"I won't."

L thought a moment. "What if you could be better at Near by doing this?"

Mello's glare grew fiercer. "I. Said. I won't."

L's eyes widened and he glanced over at Matt. "What would you do in this case Matt-chan?"

"I would hide."

L frowned slightly. "You aren't much help."

Matt wracked his brain, trying to think of something. "Well…there's something I could try. It works sometimes. But other times it doesn't…"

"You'll have to take the risk Matt-chan," said L. "I would prefer that he not advance any further in this state. I don't think it would be very good for Roger-san."

"It wouldn't _at all_," said Roger.

Looking very unhappy with the situation, Matt walked over and sat down in front of Mello, raising his hand in a tentative wave. Mello, with his head released from L's hands, did nothing but glare at him darkly. Licking his lips nervously, Matt opened his mouth and sang quietly, "Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, The Amazing Chocolatier."

L and Roger exchanged glances, and Mello's facial expression changed ever so slightly at the singing, softening the very smallest bit. Matt went on, "Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, everybody give a cheer! He's modest, clever, and so smart, he barely can restrain it. With so much generosity, there is no way to contain it…" He began to smile a bit as Mello's hands unclenched, and he carefully laced his fingers with Mello's to make his hands move from side to side in a cheery motion. "Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, he's the one that you're about to meet. Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, he's a genius who just can't be beat. The magician and the chocolate wiz, the best darn guy who ever lived. Willy Wonka here he is!"

All the tension had gone out of Mello completely, and he flopped back against L looking completely calm. Matt sighed in relief, and Near said, "Matt, what truly bothers me is that you have that song memorized. I won't even comment on the fact that you actually sang it in public."

"Excellent work, Matt-chan," said L, standing up and pulling Mello to his feet as well.

"How did you even discover that would work?" said Roger, still in disbelief.

"I can't remember actually," said Matt. "I think it had something to do with an ice cream truck…or something like that…"

"Well, with that out of the way," said Roger. "Perhaps we can try this again, and this time there shall be no exchanging of words. You shall begin on my cue."

…

Luckily, there was no more fighting throughout the lesson, though there were plenty of feet stepped upon and unhappy students. But the boys were quick learners, and picked up on the basic steps and were able to do them relatively well after a practice session of two hours, at which point they were all dismissed for the rest of the day.

It seemed that, in the blink of an eye, Sunday arrived.

"We all remember what we've learned, don't we?" said Roger, anxious, pacing, and red-face as he meticulously examined the boy's suits and Alice brushed their hair. "Polite and proper gentlemen. Say please and thank-you. Do not speak without being spoken to. Do not be rude, do not be loud. No gloating, hitting, face-making…" And on he went, until he cut off as the doorbell rang. "Oh my! Alice, answer it would you? No, no, I shall get it, never mind. I shall…" He gulped nervously. "Just follow me boys."

Off they marched to the front door, and they at least _looked _like perfect gentlemen, albeit somewhat strange ones. But they were neat and clean, and for the moment silent. Yet Roger felt a sense of impending disaster, of certain doom about to crash down upon him. Meeting Elizabeth, that wonderfully proper woman, after all these years…and to meet her in such a place!

At least L wasn't currently present. He was off in his room, devouring a particularly large cake that Roger had given him as a distraction. He hoped Elizabeth and her companions would at least have some time to settle in before meeting him.

Roger straightened his bowtie, reached for the knob, opened the door, and…

"Mr. Ruvie, my dear! How wonderful it is to see you again!"

Mello and Matt's mouths dropped open, and even Near's eyes widened in surprise. Standing on the other side of the door, flanked by an older couple of one man and one woman, stood a very large and flamboyant lady, dressed in mounds of pink. A wide-brimmed pink hat was upon her head, in which was a long pink feather. The pearls about her throat were pink, her shoes, purse, and dress were pink. Even her lipstick.

Very pink. And very large.

She was quite a curvaceous woman, and she dwarfed Roger not only in height but in girth. Imagining the two of them as a couple was utterly ridiculous. The boys assumed normal expressions as quickly as they could.

"Ah, Ms. Elizabeth Martin, my dear," said Roger. "Such a pleasure! And as lovely a lady as ever."

"Oh, dear, you flatter me!" she said, as he kissed her hand. "My, but what a beautiful house! Ah, my manners! Mr. Roger, this is Lady Mary and Sir William, my associates from the board." She motioned to the couple behind her, who Roger proceeded to shake hands with and invite in. Elizabeth's heels made a steady _tap-tap _upon the tile as she stepped inside. "Lady Mary is a psychologist and Sir William is her husband. She wanted to evaluate the children's' mental state while we were here."

"How…very lovely," said Roger, in a tone that plainly showed he didn't think it was lovely at all.

"These must be the children!" said Elizabeth with a large smile, as she caught sight of the boys. She approached them, looking them over carefully. "What odd little creatures! White hair? Who ever heard of such a thing upon a little boy? But they are dressed quite nicely."

"Ah, but _this _will never do," said Sir William, squinting his eyes as if he needed glasses. He tapped his cane at Mello's feet. "Young lady, little girls should not wear little boy's suits. It is highly improper."

Roger hurried over as quickly as he could, while Mello's eyes widened and his face turned bright red. Matt stifled a giggle behind his hand.

"Pardon me Sir William, but this is Mello," he said. "And…uh…he is…well, a _he_."

"My, is she indeed?" said Sir William, and Elizabeth laughed.

"Oh my dear Sir William, your eyesight isn't what it used to be," she said. "Though the boy does look terribly feminine. I'm sure it would help if you cut his hair Roger. Now then." She abruptly turned back to the boys. "I am Elizabeth Martin, and this is Mary Winston and William Rodner. What are your names?"

Near cleared his throat and extended his hand, but refused eye contact, keeping his gaze to the side. "My name is Near."

"How old are you?" said Lady Mary, as Elizabeth shook his hand. She was a very severe looking woman, with her graying brown hair pulled into a tight bun. She held a clipboard and pen in her hand.

"I'm eight years old," he said quietly, and Mary's pen scratched upon her paper.

Mello didn't need an invitation to immediately launch into his introduction once Near had finished. "Hello, a pleasure to meet you. My name is Mello, and I'm ten years old. I'm _almost _the best in every class," he said quickly, and shook Elizabeth's hand.

"Indeed a pleasure, Mello," said Elizabeth, with a small smile. "What odd names these boys have been given Mr. Roger."

"Oh, yes, indeed," said Roger, laughing a bit nervously.

"And you, young man?" said Elizabeth, turning her attention to Matt. All eyes were on him, the last to be introduced. Nervousness flickered across his face for a moment, but then…

"Bonjour, je m'appelle Matt. Le c'est une volonté à rencontrer vous, Mademoiselle Elizabeth." Matt didn't settle for handshake, instead delicately kissing her outstretched hand. "Enchante, mademoiselle."

"My, my, what a perfect little gentlemen," said Elizabeth, her voice going up a few notes as she put her free hand to her chest. "And such an excellent accent! Ça c'est une volonté vraiment, monsieur."

Roger dabbed at the perspiration his forehead with his handkerchief, smiling with relief. "Yes, all our children here are fluent in at least one language besides English."

"As they should be," said Sir William. "Well-rounded children make for successful adults!"

"Yes, indeed, well-rounded is what we look for," said Elizabeth. "Oh, but no need to jump right into business, this is a friendly visit. Perhaps we could have a tour of the house, Mr. Roger?"

"Of course," said Roger quickly. "Boys, you may play cleanly and silently somewhere until we need you again."

As Roger led the guests off, beginning to ramble about the history of the various paintings upon the walls, Mello and Matt gave each other "a look", before hurrying off to get a very full backpack out of the coat closet close to the door.

"What is that for?" said Near, twisting his hair as he watched them. "Roger will be very displeased if you prank Ms. Elizabeth."

"Oh my, listen to the goody two-shoes," said Mello, rolling his eyes. "Don't you dare snitch on us Near. Or I'll take all your legos and throw them in the pond."

Near gave him an irritated expression, "You'll both get in trouble."

"For your information, I was blackmailed," said Matt. "And don't tell."

They disappeared outdoors, shutting the door quietly behind them, and Near sighed heavily. "Idiots."

…

Roger's tour lasted nearly an hour, but with that finished Elizabeth – with Lady Mary's coaxing – was right back business. She met with the boys in the common room, where they all took their seats and the adults sipped at glasses of red wine.

"Have any of them ever been diagnosed with a mental impairment?" said Lady Mary. "Specifically, autism?" She gave Near a strange look.

"They've never been tested," said Roger, understanding her look quite well. "Mr. Wammy insists that the boys'…quirks…are simply part of their personalities and should not be taken as any sort of syndrome or impairment."

"I see," said Lady Mary primly, her pen scritch-scratching upon her papers.

"Now boys," said Elizabeth, with a simpering smile. "I know you are all quite intelligent, and are the top three in your classes. But what I truly want to know is if you've been educated in the fine arts. Specifically, music!" She made a flourishing movement with her hands. "I see we have a lovely grand piano in this room. Can any of you play it?"

Near raised his hand. "I can."

"Oh, wonderful! Please do then."

Near got to his feet, indeed looking very like a penguin in his suit and with an expression that belayed his displeasure. But he didn't complain, forcing himself to concentrate only on getting through this horrid "game". "Do you have any preferences?" he asked, as he took a seat at the piano bench.

"Oh, let's see now," Elizabeth tapped her finger to her chin in thought. "How about Beethoven's Sonata number 8 in C minor, Pathétique. Such a lovely piece! Do you know it?"

"Yes," Near placed his fingers against the keys, beginning to play. If one has ever watched a pianist play, one will probably be able to envision the passion with which they do their work, the jerking movement of their body as they throw themselves into the music. However, dear readers, let me assure you Near was nothing like your average pianist. He was rigidly straight as he played, his eyes only occasionally flickering toward the keys. Otherwise his gaze was firmly focused upon the wall. Nevertheless, he played spectacularly and without error.

"He's a rather odd boy, isn't he?" said Elizabeth under her breath to Roger. "Does he have something…ehm, a bit _off kilter _mentally? I know you said he's never been tested, but…"

"We aren't really sure," said Roger "I think it may be that just about every child here is a bit 'off kilter'."

Elizabeth laughed softly. "Well Einsten was that, and it didn't make him any less brilliant. But what marvelous ability the boy has. Such skill with the instrument."

Across from them, seated upon the couch, Mello was slowly growing tenser and tenser in his seat, and Matt patted his shoulder nervously. The boy seemed to be mere seconds from leaping from his seat to deliver some performance that could make Near's seem like a mere school boy's concert.

"Don't get upset Mels," said Matt softly. "Come on, you'll get a chance too."

That chance could not have come too soon. Near completed the first movement only, and was given soft applause from most of his audience – Mello and Matt excluded. Mello got up so quickly he nearly tripped over his own feet, once again refusing to wait for any question or invitation. Leaning against the wall behind the piano was a black violin case, and it was this he went directly to, taking up the instrument and moving it into position before launching into the Violin Sonata in G minor, the Devil's Trill.

Every movement of the bow was one of his entire body, his expression intent but calm as he went through the piece with a passion strong enough to match Near's strength of indifference. Indeed, one would think such a challenging piece near impossible for one so young, and it was true that Mello had no particular liking for it. But as it was the most difficult sonata he knew of, there was simply no excuse in his mind for not playing it. There was of course unavoudably the occasional mistake, every one of which seemed to Mello to be as loud as a clash of cymbols, but he went on without pause. He ended with a bow and a far from humble look in Near's direction.

"Simply breathtaking!" said Elizabeth. "Excellent work, both of you. I'm quite impressed Roger, they're so skilled! Now what about you, young man?"

Roger's face immediately paled as the woman's attention turned to Matt, you didn't overlook the man's expression. He shifted nervously in his seat. "Well, I don't really play anything very well…"

"Nonsense!" an all-too-familiar voice said from across the room. "You play excellently Matt-chan!"

"Oh dear, no," said Roger, as every head turned to get a look at the newcomer. There came L, walking across the room hunched as usual, in that atrocious pink suit with that ridiculous cupcake pin and a plate of cake in his hand. His hair was as messy as ever, though at least he was wearing shoes…

But truly, the fact that he had on shoes was the only thing Roger could find to be thankful for. The three guests were staring at L with a mixture of horror and curiousity.

"Mr. Roger," said Elizabeth slowly. "Who is this?"

"Oh he's…uh," Roger pulled at his collar nervously. "This is…"

"Ryuzaki," said L, abruptly extending his hand to Elizabeth. "I have heard much about you, Elizabeth-san."

"Have you?" the woman took his hand rather cautiously. "Hm, what is that honorific you used? I'm quite sure it's Japanese in origin but you don't look-"

"Yes, I have. Yes, it is. And no, I don't, but I am. A fourth."

There was a rather awkward silence for Roger and his guests, though L just smiled happily and the boys grinned before they could stop themselves. "Well then," said Elizabeth, with a very tense and uncertain smile of her own. "A pleasure to have you join us."

L didn't say another word to her, instead turning his attention back to Matt. "Matt-chan, you _must _play for them."

Matt smiled. "I suppose I could-"

"No, no," said Roger quickly. "There's really no need. As he already said he doesn't play anything particularly well."

"Ridiculous," said L. "Matt-chan plays very well. I've heard him on countless occasions."

"L, the _entire neighborhood _has heard him on countless occasions," said Roger from between clenched teeth.

"Does he have concerts here?" said Elizabeth, looking intrigued.

"Not exactly," said Roger.

"But I would love to hear him play, regardless of whatever degree of skill he has," she said. "Please, go ahead and play for us."

Matt hopped to his feet. "You'll have to follow me then. I'm not allowed to keep my instruments in the common room." He skipped off toward the basement door, and the others followed behind, Roger hissing a scolding at L out of earshot of the guests. Matt flicked on the light as he opened the door, leading the others down the stairway. The basement was dimly lit, but it wasn't a cold, creepy place. There were numerous packing boxes stored against one wall, and against the other were speakers, electrical cords, posters, CDs, cassettes, and…a large red drum set.

"Aaah," a flicker of understanding went across Elizabeth's face as she saw the instrument and glanced back at Roger. "I see. A drum set."

"Yeah, it's really cool," said Matt, taking a seat and picking up a set of drum sticks, forgetting his "proper" speech. "I think I got them when I was seven. They're so fun. What do you want me to play?"

"I'm unfamiliar with any pieces that can be played on these-"

"Play Metallica," said Mello, also throwing all due decorum carelessly aside. "'One' has some good stuff in it."

"Matt, surely there's something calm you can play," said Roger anxiously, and Matt sighed heavily.

"There really isn't," he said, turning to the CD player behind him. Though Roger had taken away his radio several days ago the boy still had plenty of access to music players, and he put in a CD and began flipping through the songs. "It just won't sound the same unless I have background music with it," he explained.

"Don't put on anything profane!" said Roger.

"You should stop hounding him," said L. "This is a normal for a boy his age."

"Oh, is it indeed? Well let me tell you, sir, that this is hardly appropriate-"

Music blasted out from the speakers, the sound loud enough to vibrate the walls. With the microphones on and the volume at its full capacity, Matt tore into the first beats. It seemed loud enough to shatter glass, and most certainly was not – as Roger was still desperately trying to point out – appropriate material for proper guests to hear.

Yet the day had only just begun.

…

"That was certainly a unique experience," said Elizabeth, looking decidedly rumpled as the group made their way out of the basement. "I do believe my hearing is thoroughly damaged."

"You played very well, Matt-chan," said L, ducking as he carried the boy upon his shoulders through the doorway into the common room. "Doubtlessly it was your best performance yet."

Matt grinned happily, while at L's side Mello was quickly pointing out everything he'd done right in his own performance. Near was still sitting on the couch, having made the smart decision to not get too close to the source of the third boy's playing. He looked up as they approached, caught a glimpse of their expressions, and rolled his eyes.

"Miss Elizabeth, what do you think of the house so far?" he said, his eyes once more firmly set upon the puzzle he'd begun playing with while they were away.

"The house is perfectly lovely," said Elizabeth. "It's the inhabitants I'm rather unsure of." She said this with a nervous glance in L's direction.

"Ah, indeed," Near got to his feet and walked directly to Roger, looking up at the man with a dreadfully serious expression. "I'm becoming rather bored. This is taking longer than anticipated and I'm not enjoying it. I thought they were simply going to have tea and take their leave."

"Near, your manners please," said Roger.

"No, no, it's fine," said Elizabeth quickly, sounding very much as if she was ready to be on her way. "Let us adjourn for tea. We probably should be taking our…leave…soon…" She edged to the side warily as L drew suddenly closer to her, examining her necklace.

"Are these real pearls?" he said, chewing his fingernail curiously. "I've never seen pink pearls before; they're quite unusual aren't they?"

"L, why don't you come with me? I'll have the tea prepared at once," said Roger. "Then we shall depart for the gardens. I promise you shall the very best seat, Elizabeth."

Overhearing that, a little grin spread across Mello's face. 'The best seat is it_?'_ he thought. 'Well, I'll have to see about that…' He poked Matt upon the arm, swiftly getting the boy's attention. "Meet me at the pavilion," he whispered. "But first, I need you to get Alice's sewing kit."

* * *

_Oh dear, I feel as if I went from Humor to Fluff, and then with the help of the Willy Wonka Welcome song I descended into Crack. I just couldn't help including it! I'd been envisioning the dance lesson scene even before the story was written, and when I heard that Willy Wonka song I laughed out loud and had to find an excuse to use it._

_Mello strikes me as the sort of person who would play the violin. To me it seems to be such a passionate instrument and I think it suits him :) The Devil's Trill is also an excellent song, I'd recommend listening to it._


	6. Chapter 6

_Oh my…could it be? The last chapter?! Why, yes. Yes it is. Chapter 6, here for you at last. The final chapter in this little tale :)_

* * *

While Elizabeth and her companions calmed themselves from their "ordeal" with Matt's drum solo, Mello made his out to the pavilion. The table was already set for eight, and there it was! The best seat! A large cushioned chair looking like a little throne. Mello rolled his eyes as he saw it. Roger was such a dreadful kiss-up!

There were footsteps behind him on the garden path, and Mello turned to see Matt approaching, waving Alice's sewing kit triumphantly. "I've got it!" he said, as he came up the pavilion steps. "I didn't know you can sew Mello…"

"I can't," said Mello, taking the little box and opening it, withdrawing one of the sewing needles. "But you don't need to be able to sew to get some use out of a needle." He smiled devilishly. "This Elizabeth woman is getting on my nerves."

"She isn't so bad-"

"She's bad enough," said Mello, giving Matt a dreadful glare. He lifted up the large chair's cushion, carefully sliding the needle into it. The needle was just small enough to fit perfectly within the cushion without sticking out the top. But if anyone sat upon it…

"There," said Mello. "Just wait till she sits on that! It'll be hilarious, and hopefully it'll send her packing."

Matt made a face. "You know, I don't mind just being polite to her."

Mello groaned. "You're so soft Matt, what's wrong with you? 'Just being polite'. Ha! Yeah right. We've been unfairly manipulated from the very start. The least we can do is strike back."

"Isn't that a little dramatic?"

"No, it – Oh! Here they come!" Mello took a seat quickly, stuffing the sewing kit into his pocket. Roger showed the guests into the pavilion, with L and Near not far behind them. Lady Mary was speaking with L, writing things down upon her papers as she did. Mello squirmed about in anticipation, however…

Roger pulled out an entirely different chair for Elizabeth, the one at the very back of the table with the best view of the garden. Mello went cold, watching as everyone took their seats, until there was only one person and one chair remaining.

The big "best" seat…and L.

Matt looked at Mello with his mouth hanging open in horror, and Mello shrunk down in his chair, his face turning red. When he'd said "best seat", Roger must have meant the one with the best view of the garden, not the cushioned one! Mello gulped nervously. But perhaps, as long as L crouched upon his toes as he usually did, he wouldn't put any pressure upon the needle.

But that hope was quickly dashed. As L passed Roger by the man said to him softly, "Please sit properly, just this once. Don't crouch."

"I will not crouch, but I must at least sit with my legs pulled up," said L. "You're dreadfully strict Roger-san."

Mello frantically searched his mind for an excuse to stop him, but it was too late for that. His mind was a horrified blank as L pulled out the chair and sat down.

It really was a very odd thing to see. It was almost as if L accidentally sat upon something hot, though he didn't make a sound. One moment he had sat down and the next he was upon the ground, having moved so quickly he'd knocked the chair over in the process. His eyes were wide, his expression one of utter shock.

"L, what are you doing?" said Roger, as everyone at the table stared at him. The young man didn't give a reply, instead leaning forward for a closer look at the chair. It took him mere seconds to discover the needle and pull it out into the open. There was a gasp from all around, except from Near, who merely raised his eyebrows at the sight and glanced over at Mello, who was too busy trying to disappear into his chair to notice. L held up the needle accusingly.

"This…was a vicious and malicious crime," he said. "I believe there is only one person here who would dare carry through with this." Mello tensed himself for the inevitable. "Mello."

The boy opened his eyes slowly, meeting the gazes of all those present. "I'll have you know this didn't go as planned," he said. "It was purely accidental."

"Of course," said L. "You thought Elizabeth would have this seat." The woman gasped, and Roger quickly launched into a string of apologies. "However, once again Mello-chan, you failed to thoroughly think through your plan and examine it from all angles. Resulting in our current situation. Once is-"

Mello leapt up with a shriek before L could finish, and Matt yelled, "Run Mello!" at the top of his voice, while Roger shook his head in despair.

"It was bound to happen," he said. "What else could I possibly expect?"

L didn't immediately give chase, instead beginning to carefully take off his suit jacket and shoes. Elizabeth turned to Roger with wide eyes. "Mr. Roger, quite frankly I must say this house has such strange people living in it one would think it is an insane asylum!

"I often do think just that, Miss Elizabeth."

Still holding the needle, L walked off at a leisurely pace, as if he expected to catch quick-footed Mello at such a speed. Nevertheless, within minutes there was another shriek from the direction of the house, the bushes began to rustle, and Mello burst into sight again, looking for a place to hide.

"I insist this madness stop at once!" said Elizabeth. "Mr. Roger, surely you have some control over the situation?"

"Well, that is rather awkward to explain-"

"You cannot tell me these children are free to simply run amuck?" said Elizabeth.

"Well, no. But-"

Mello suddenly launched himself over the pavilion railing and scurried under the table, where he found himself cornered with L behind him coming over the railing as well, and a sea of legs before him. "Mello, L, this must stop at once!" said Roger, which was his best attempt at taking control at the moment. Alas, it failed miserably, and it was soon made clear that L had no qualms about following Mello right down to his hiding place. Elizabeth shrieked as the young man proceeded to crawl under the table, leaping up from her seat and backing away in horror. Mello tried to take advantage of the sudden opening, only to have L catch hold of his pant leg. Thus restrained, there was only one remaining means of escape.

So, mere seconds later, Mello ran off down the pavilion steps without his pants. There could have been no more an effective method for utterly horrifying the guests, save for if L himself had been the one going about in his underwear. Elizabeth huffily collected her purse.

"Mr. Roger, I have had quite enough of this place. We shall be taking our leave, sir!"

Muttering countless apologies, the red-faced Roger led them back up the garden path toward the house, while Matt ran ahead indoors to see what was becoming of the L and Mello fiasco. Hardly a minute later he came dashing back out to them, out of breath.

"You shouldn't go in there," he said quickly.

Roger huffed, "Matt, this is hardly the time-"

"No, really!" said Matt. "Mello…well, he isn't…happy…"

The tone of Matt's voice was enough of an implication for Roger to realize what was going on. Giving his guests a quick apologetic smile, he took Matt aside and said quietly. "Matt, if he's going to do what I think he is, then you must go sing to him at once."

Yes. It was an utterly ridiculous thing to say. Matt shook his head quickly. "Too late for that," he said. "He's already gone all…purple-y."

"Oh dear," Roger paced about a moment in distress. "Oh dear, oh dear."

Elizabeth tapped her foot impatiently. "Mr. Roger, if you will not see us out then we shall simply go ourselves."

"No, no, I shall accompany you," said Roger, then under his breath to Matt, he said, "Where is Mello last you saw him?"

"In the front hall."

"Of course. The situation must be as terrible as it could possibly be. No matter. Miss Elizabeth, Lady Mary, and Sir William, please follow closely. I'll see you to your car."

Roger led them through the house with the utmost caution, no longer caring what his guests thought of his sudden paranoia. Under no circumstances could they be allowed to see Mello now. If only he could get them out before the full explosion came-

Roger stopped frozen as a sudden scream cut off his thoughts. Ah. Too late then. Rounding the corner, he found L crouched against the wall glaring, looking very thoroughly upset. Very close by the screaming reached a crescendo, complete with the thumping sound of a very angry foot hitting a very unfortunate wall.

"Goodness gracious!" said Elizabeth. "What on earth has been done to the boy?"

"Nothing," said L, sounding as if his own answer offended him. "This is merely his last attempt to prevent justice from being delivered. Unfortunately it is rather effective. He is past all reasoning with now." There was the sound of breaking glass, and L said, "I believe that was your antique vase Roger."

"This is utterly ridiculous!" said Sir William. "He's merely a child! You cannot honestly say you are afraid of him Mr. Roger."

"Ah, but you don't know him, William-san," said L. "He is quite demonic."

"Maybe someone should do something soon," said Matt anxiously, glancing around the next corner into the front hall. The rest of them moved closer for a view as well, though they really shouldn't have. Mello was standing in the middle of the hall, still utterly pantless and screaming at the top of his voice with furious tears running down his strangely purplish-red face. Mello was quite good at working himself up, and he was doing his very best at the moment, making himself so angry that his breath was coming in choking gasps.

"What will become of him?" said Elizabeth. "Surely he'll have to calm down soon, or be stopped!"

"He'll eventually pass out," said Matt bluntly. "He hyperventilates and ends up fainting. He's fine once he wakes up though."

"I suppose we'll simply have to wait it out," said Roger, but then L got suddenly to his feet, passing up the hallway to go into the kitchen. "L! What ever are you doing?"

The young man didn't answer, instead disappearing through the kitchen doorway without a word. He emerged again several minutes later, carrying a bucket full of water. Without a moment's hesitation, and much to Roger's horror and dismay, L proceeded straight down the front hallway and emptied the bucket over Mello's head.

There was instant silence from Mello, who stood quivering in shock with his mouth agape. L crouched down, withdrew a chocolate bar from his pocket and broke off a piece, placing it in Mello's mouth before he pushed his jaw shut and sat him down upon his lap, beginning to hum the Willy Wonka song.

"Hm. It worked," said L, as Mello sat quietly with only the occasional sniffly hiccup leftover from all his fuss. "I believe I've found another method to calm him down with Roger-san."

Roger had lost his ability to speak at that point. Elizabeth, however, had not. "The lot of you need to be put in straight jackets!" she said, marching over and opening the door with Lady Mary and Sir William close behind her.

"I have already been told by several mental health institutions that I'm stable enough to be in society," said L, not helping in the least. Something else that didn't help in the least was what occurred when Miss Elizabeth opened the door. A bucketful of a sticky honey and water mix fell from a bucket set up above them, swiftly covering her and her pink hat. At that Mello smiled at last, and Matt bit his lip in a guilty but rather pleased way.

"You little beasts!" Elizabeth shrieked, storming out the door toward her car. She and the others piled in, though the moment Elizabeth opened her door the next booby trap was put into effect and several pillows worth of feathers fluffed out at her. She now resembled a very large, very sticky, and very pink chicken, and Mello smirked in triumph.

But then, something even more unexpected occurred. When Sir William put in the keys to start the car's engine, the front end of the car exploded with multi-colored flames, fireworks shooting off in all directions and propelling the car several yards backward. Mello and Matt looked at each other in confusion, for this bit wasn't their doing, though it was devilishly wonderful to see. The three members from the Board of the Proper Education of Youth were out the gate in seconds, and the front hall in Wammy's House was very, very silent.

All eyes turned to Roger, whose face was a perfect blank. L began to say something, but Roger held up his hand quickly for silence. "Don't bother," he said. "I should have expected this. Nothing any different could have possibly occurred. I should have known that my guests would be utterly horrified, covered in honey and feathers, and then have their car rigged with rockets. I should have known. The very idea. A tea party in Wammy's House." He laughed, sounding on the verge of hysteria. "Preposterous! Utterly preposterous indeed!" He turned away walking off to his room still muttering, and L, Mello, and Matt exchanged looks.

"That was wicked sweet!" said Matt with a small smile, and Mello nodded quickly.

"Turned out better than I thought it would," he said, in such a way that no one could have guessed he'd been screaming and stomping about mere moments before. "Only…" He glanced up at L, who seemed to be considering something.

"L," said Matt slowly. "What are you thinking about?"

"How 'once is once' could be applied in this situation," he said. "Fist of all I must consider the fact that no harm was done to me personally beyond the needle incident, however the rules of the game were very severally broken with that prank."

"But we didn't do the fireworks!" said Mello.

"Regardless, plenty of rule-breaking remains. And," he clamped his arm around Mello. "No more running."

Matt began babbling about being blackmailed and "forced into an unfair situation". Mello on the other hand, having already exhausted himself with one tantrum, managed only a few tired protests before falling silent. L glanced down at him. "You look drowsy."

"I'm not," said Mello, stifling a yawn.

"Let's go see where Near has gotten to," said L, getting to his feet. "Perhaps I'll be able to solve this conundrum while we're walking."

They found Near quickly enough, outside the house where he'd managed to climb his way up several crates and boxes to the top of a low shed, leaning over the wall to peer into the front yard. Remarkably, right by his side, was a pile of fireworks. L, Mello, and Matt exchanged disbelieving glances, and Mello began tugging on L's arm.

"Oooh, Near did something bad!" he whispered. "You should – ow! That's not fair!" Mello rubbed his backside bitterly, to which L had delivered a quick swat to quiet him, and Matt swiftly took a few steps back lest he receive the same. Mello's reaction got Near's attention immediately, and the boy turned around.

"Oh, you found me," he said. "I was rather surprised that the fireworks were actually successful."

L helped him down from atop the shed. "You aren't one to pull pranks Near-chan."

"No," he said. "But Mello and Matt were doing one, and I've never tried it. I just wanted to make sure I could accomplish such a thing as well. I must admit it's a bit…what's the word…?"

"Thrilling?" suggested Matt.

"Rather like that, I suppose," said Near.

"Ah, you've all been naughty then," said L, dusting the dirt from Near's clothing. "Poor Roger-san, after all his work you still acted up. But it's normal for boys your age, unfortunate as that is."

"But you'll forgive us," said Mello, as he climbed up onto L's shoulders and wrapped his arms around his head. "Because you like us very much. But I'm your favorite." He leaned over to peer upside-down at L's face. "Right?"

"You're my favorite blond boy who loves chocolate," said L, careful words but satisfactory ones for Mello, who smirked proudly and stuck his tongue out at Near.

"Favorite," he said, pointing to himself.

"L, please make Mello shut up," said Near, looking irritated.

"Please shut up Mello-chan."

"Hey, L!" Matt tugged at L's sleeve. "Now that Elizabeth's gone and probably won't…um…come back…could you ask Roger if I can have a dog now? I'm sure he had Alice take that dog I found to the animal shelter, but it's probably still there! Roger might say yes if you ask!"

"But dogs eat cake…"

"Well, see, it really was Roger's fault the cake got eaten. Let me explain. First of all…"

…

And this, dear readers, I must say is the end of our tale. I could go on, chronicling further conversations and brattiness from "certain children", but let us close here, on the note that Miss Elizabeth certainly never did return to Wammy's House, though she often found herself wondering afterwards just how many mental institutions had informed L that he was fit for society. Whoever they were, she felt fully prepared to shut them down for being utter fools.

As for our "gentlemen", well…they are still very much the same.

* * *

_Awww, it's over! And if you think Mello is much too old to be throwing tantrums I wholeheartedly agree. But as one who lives with a ten year old sister who still throws tantrums (not as bad as Mello's luckily, but just as loud) I can tell you it's perfectly possible for a ten year old to throw a tantrum, and also recover from one very quickly. One moment they shall be screaming and crying as if the whole world is against them, and the next moment they're "La di da" skipping and tossing about flowers (figuratively of course). Especially since I feel that the boys all, in some way, have a bit of L's childishness. I imagine them being in some ways very mature, but in other ways immature for their age (and I have the canon to prove it). But don't worry. I'm sure Mello outgrew his temper fits before he turned eleven :)_

_And Mello is the only one who got swatted because he deserved it most. Spanking all three "in-story" would have dragged on the story a bit much (I think), but I'm sure justice was served somehow. L probably gave them all a few good swats before bed for being so naughty, and I bet it was Matt who asked if they could all sleep in his bed again after. I also think L would have gone easy on little Matty, because he didn't really mean to misbehave. Cue sparkly strawberry-flavored fluff._

_Hugs and cookies to all my reviewers, and I shall begin replying as soon as possible. Thanks so much for reading everyone! Perhaps I shall run into some of you at AX this year. Hehe, if I do I probably won't even know it! But on July 5__th__, since that's the only day I'm attending unfortunately, I'll be the Mello cosplayer who's carrying a black bag with Death Note pins on it. (As if that info would help in a crowd of thousands :P )_

_Toodle-oo everyone!_


End file.
